Morning

Plastic electronics do not define me
Anymore than paper and liquid
Anymore than the elements
Of which I am borne.

We sit staring as if in a mirror, seeking recognition, smiling in terror, but if you smile to me

The filth across the floor
breeds pestilence.
A sock, astray, bugs.
Crumbs crawl from the couch.
The air teems.

But light is salvation,
song is renewal
The air is never still.
It teems.