After Waking

a new poem

After Waking

My head heavy 
        with the stain
of images fading. 
        How dreams drone 
after waking
        and carve 
a long echo 
        through the room.
The room sifts 
        into view
through the echo 
        recoiling 
into the white noise
        of a window fan.
It takes time 
        for a dream
to disintegrate 
        in daylight—
to wring myself 
        into the present—
a prayer tied
        to my tongue.
It takes a walk 
        to find the sky 
unhinged 
        from gray haze: 
Canadian wildfire 
        a thousand miles away—
I find my balance
        in the collapse
of this distance.
        The haze dulls
the sun strained
        through silver columns 
of rain. Lightning 
        cleaves the horizon
and thunder tumbles
        up my spine,
lodging in my throat.