D.K. SHEPARD

I look down. I’m not sure why. Who am I?

I'm stumped. Used to be? Want to be? Should be?

I woke early to write this

At the time when the ease of dreams still lingers

From the rivers of unconscious reverie

The barista’s expression remained blank,

“Have a wonderful morning” made no crack.

The prickliness of apathy is rough,

Another question and I’m here once more,

Back to a crossroads of crucial choices,

Soaring soprano notes of a hymn spreading wings

Words brushing my tongue that generations have sung

I poke myself in my left eye once more

When your entire body is shuddering

Removing makeup is a painful chore