Daybreak

Don’t talk to me in the morning
When I show up disoriented
In your breakfast table
I just returned from another world
Smelling of nocturnal scents, exhausted.

Let me be when I sit down
Like a tomb, unwilling to speak, silent.
It’s only to fence myself;
To keep you beyond the reach
Of the scythe my words still are.

Instead, pour me a cup of coffee
To help me drown the confusion
And take the venom off
The serrated blade
Of my morning tongue.

I’ll be grateful for the warmth
For the stillness of our glances
For our non-conversation
Holding the coffee cup the way
You hold my heart—gently.