print previewback KARRIE WAARALA
The Morning After
this coffee, black as sin, forgiveness-sweet
these bruises licking knuckles’ arpeggios
this lamp dribbling light into this gloom,
across these eyes, reluctant tortoises
these knees curled snail-tight to rattled ribs
this chair, this blanket a hungry nest
this wind of witches’ voices stuttering these blinds
against this window’s flat indifference
this book a broken bird discarded on
this armrest where this cat insists now
this hummingbird purr, this sugared skull
knocking against mine, this swollen cheek
pressed tight to fur, rubbing, erasing every-
thing but this, rubbing, this moment, this. 
How to Remember
Memory of Museum of Memory
The Morning After