Los Sábados por la mañana

a poem-in-progress

I am too tired from the week to dream with my eyes open, but the sun continues to shine from the sheer cloth curtains to the unbothered fringes of the rug on the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed, rub my head in a circular motion & get up to head to the living room. The rest of the house is quiet, except for the persistent hum coming from the refriger…