Poetry in Motion
New York
Morning Bell
Iman Mersal
Morning Bell
The eye opens like a curtain rising
In the dark, feet search for something real
Consciousness hasn’t happened yet
And the floorboards are skin temperature
A fresh repetition, today will be one more or one less
An impromptu concert strikes up in the kitchen
Maybe this black coffee is the morning bell—
the prize you win for returning safe from sleep.