Don’t move. You don’t want to wake
the person next to you. Don’t sing.
Watch the clouds as they transform
form gray to gold to pink to white.
Fight with yourself about what to do first
when you rise. Count the leaves
on the philodendron. Follow
with your eyes the cracks in the ceiling
and imagine travelling in there. Lose
track of the path that brought you here.
Remember the day in second grade
when you knew you would never be loved.
Try to quiet that bouncy pop song lyric
that will not leave you alone. Don’t hum.
Beat yourself up for not being more courageous.
Tell yourself you shouldn’t beat yourself up.
Give up. Notice the way that the sheet
is so thin and still somehow warm enough.