Aromatics
The flower
has been plucked.
The gears
have all been oiled
and left to
sleep.
Breakfast will be awkward,
an afterthought
almost.
I pull the blanket up
over my morning
head.
The aromatics have
changed.
Beauty
breaks wind
on the way
to the bathroom.
Lifting one leg
in the air
like some mangy
dog park
thing.