Saturday Morning

The unpleasant dream clings insistently
Just behind my eyes
And in clinging
Becomes dread

Dread
That leaks into my empty stomach
Filling it with shapeless weight

Dread
That trickles into my left hip
Beginning a familiar ache there

Dread
That seals my eyes
Shut

When I find the courage
To open my eyes
The pillow next to my head
Is a blurry rock
Beneath unshed tears
While surface pebbles
Scratch my watery whites

I lie suspended in Hamlet’s dilemma
Wishing for waking
Wanting more sleep
My bed cozy but confining
Comforting but uncomfortable

Perhaps, just perhaps
I should have had two not four
Fingers of whiskey last night.

One thought on “Saturday Morning

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