Morning Mercies
Nov 4 · 1 min read
The blinds are gilded lavishly
and golden light burns shadows onto the wall
The goldenness itself is against me, lending an aura
more brilliant than the one that tends
to be my own
Within the hour the goldenness recedes
I am unglorified, the room stripped of its burnish
I am left with the day and its ordinary luster
I am left with…



