A desk lamp directed towards a desk, with the rest of the room in darkness. Photo: By Serasena on Unsplash.
Poem: The day
'It has just broken 5:30am...'
It has just broken 5:30am,
the day greyed over, my angled desk light pointing
away from me so it can’t dazzle the keyboard.
I am sat in my room with a silent drum kit
and a laptop containing the whole world.
For a short while, perhaps five minutes, no more than that,
I left this space to its own order and counted my breathing.
The day ahead is not my own.
My diary has builders, an annual general meeting
shopping; I already know that won’t be the half
of it, there’s always things that spring out of
the plantation, taking up space I didn’t know
belonged to me. Those first five minutes, no more than that,
gave me an angle that pointed directly at everything within.
