Early birds crave the first rays.
Worms pray for mercy.
Leftovers beg for attention.
I’m left with the waste.

I seize a single streamer,
tie two fingers until tethered.
My stare lingers at this prison,
but I can’t unsnap this stupor.

On the carpet an unknown torso
snores beneath confetti.
Colour stains the new-day reality,
face-down in the dirt.

I try to take a selfie in the bathroom.
Is it bad luck to massacre a mirror?
I can’t remember, but this reflection
tries to cover all the cracks.

Last year, we buried promises
beneath the dead sycamore.
Last week, a friend saw you
smile with a vague stranger.

My ears ring when I listen.
Every time your name
unwraps this ache.
Knotted memories beckon.