To Day; To Night

I slip on the

morning.

Sleep falls from my torso,

cast aside,

another laundering project.

The day fits well:

snug meeting,

loose lingering at

coffee’s break.  Later I take

issue with an unthreading of time:

a paucity of pauses exposes

my weak spot – mid day runs away with tasks,

a bit too tight – but at

night, I will loosen my tie,

and fall into the alluring arms

that strip me of busy as I search in drawer

for clothes of repose:

night’s shirt.