Axioms for the Morning
The fortress must crumble,
pillow by pillow. That’s the thing—
I will forget breakfast, again,
next to my manners molding on the counter.
The sheets will reek of sweat and honesty
for months at a time. I will offer coffee
I already drank in a get-it-yourself tone
and draw the curtains hours before your alarm.
The swords must be hung on the wall, bloodied
tampons in the trash. You already know my favorite
place to leave your umbrella is the floor of my car.
I will say I’m bad at math and life, and you’ll tell me
about Pablo Neruda. I will tell you about Alfred Jarry.
We will steal marshmallow kisses toasted by some
surreal, absurd flame. We will watch old sitcoms
for days, singing the themes with war-won whimsy.
How pretentious it all is—suns and empires rising
in parallel lines. Just call me back to bed.
The sky is blue, and you are beautiful.
Camryn Hafner is a Boston-based Midwesterner with a love for curse words and ice cream. After a long bout of characteristic indecision as to what to be when she grew up, Camryn decided not to grow up. Instead, Camryn works as a poet and drama therapist who believes in the power of play and the creative arts to support people in understanding themselves and exploring their worlds in new and effective ways.