Morning Sickness

"I have trouble getting up in the mornings...."

Morning Sickness

I have trouble getting up
in the mornings, it seems;
like when I try and extricate 
my body from the sheets 
it melted and absorbed
 into last night,
when I try to find myself 
wherever I left me, somewhere
by the bed, near the reading lamp, 
hanging with the panties 
off the doorknob.

It’s so hard to reclaim  what’s mine 
before I start the day,  and so
 I stare at the ceiling and don’t, 
until I’m almost too late. 

You’re up before me, but 
you were there last night
So I stay with that you, 
while my eyes follow 
the morning you
around the room, 
and then my ears 
follow you to the kitchen. 
And if all those parts of me
have left with you, 
then I really can’t stay 
in pieces where I lay, 
and you’re not there to cling to,
so I shriek and jump out of bed 
to go find you and the rest of me

You laugh that I might miss you, 
admonish me when I kiss you, 
over the eggs tell me I’ll be late,
and then I have to pry myself away.

I take a shower, 
the most depressing part,
losing your scent 
to the soap and the water
and steam and yet – 
it’s an empty dream, 
devoid of steamy passion – 
“You really ought to get a lover,” 
I tell the shower head as
I step out dripping onto the rug 
and compliment it’s equipment
before my clothes cover the 
outer wall of my shrine to you.

I run to the briefcase, the car keys,
a quick goodbye and I’m out the door.
Walking down the path, I feel a sinking 
heaviness in my stomach and I think 
it’s you, you are my morning sickness.

©2024  @StaceyBattlestheWorld