ode to a morning
Post on 29-Jun-2015
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Ode to a Morning
By Matt Perez
The brisk air, sharp as a sword
Slices the skin of his cleanly shaved face,
Like the cup of dark magma
Tastes bitter and burns alongside the
Mint liquid spit from his mouth into the bushes.
He settles into his cooling chamber,
Like a child entering a doctor’s office
Eyes wide open, blinded by nature,
Traverses the streets like Daredevil.
No construction crew to accompany him,
Led by machines -- dead cold steel,
Joined only by yellow submarines --
Same place, different location.
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