BREAKFAST

*

One month had passed and with its length
I had forgotten I had focused
For some months on these objects, shoes,
The angular drinking glasses
None of which could be reproduced
In the market into which my kitchen led me

*

I jumped up to hold this big sleeping baby
Who might have woken up to our applause
The sensation of speech getting ahead
Of our thoughts, since I was in public
And didn’t want to get in the way

*

The marine layer burns off with the day
Carried along through the seasons with Diana
A year built with certain materials like orange juice
Described as it is or as it has been

*

I don’t want to be left alone with my breakfast
I like the wind, I like the swell
This woman in flip flops ignores the rain
I just can’t get out of her way
For a few seconds at a time

*

The abstract painting across from the couch
Is composed mostly of dark purple
And brown with a large streak of red
Which makes it a scene in a somber picture
A painting she might have hung on purpose

*

I allow myself to think anything, these unruly thoughts
Whereas there are rules to what you can say
To another person, some of them ignored
And some of them worth keeping

—

from Screen Memory–published by The Year

Buy it here

—

By Hannah Piette 👍