4:30 AM

Long before
the yellow star
rise up
the winds of hope
crack the sleep wide open.

Long before
the motor of the scooter
danced around
the cells were jolted
by the china tea.

The unwillingness of the darkness
to give way to the morning light.
The unopened cans of milk
oil the spirit of cafeterias.
The unyielding toughness of the rusks
to get wet in the oceans of coffees.

The aridity of the eyelids
Dozy bones
And the
sad face of the blanket to get folded
forever pull me down
into the concave pillows.

—Drunken Monk

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