GOOOD MORNING
By Samara Gerstle
You’re listening to
me right now. Don’t
do that. Put your hands over your ears.
No, stop it. Look
At me. Look at this
Room. Don’t listen to me.
The sun has peeled
Back my eyelids and blistered
My cheeks.
This shirt hardens
Over my body as if
Making a silhouette.
The books sit on the shelf the same way they did last time.
The mugs are scattered
And my pilea
Has lost more
Leaves than I
Can count. But sure, listen.
Gregory Alan Isakov’s on next.
The Trinity Review 