Beauty has no jurisdiction in the sleepwalking morning. Creaking joints and eyes not awoken from slumber quite yet brave the day, unarmed and unassuming the sun tickles the newborn sky until it’s ruddy. A new day blushes and begins.

You walk the moral high road While we sit far below Yelling for you to jump This was originally published in Spring 2018 edition of The Helix.

If I could dump this mind like a bucket I’d weigh less than a whisper across water, less than a minnow swimming in panic, contained and vibrating bait. How did we kill them? I don’t remember that part. How