I’m trying to imagine
the giant mechanism
must maneuver each morning,
how enormous the
the weights and counterweights,
the mile-thick ropes and pulleys,
necessary to close off this reality
YOU SHALL NOT PASS
close off this reality
just enough so I get out of bed,
do my hair, make coffee
right-side up instead of
upside down like it feels
when I peer through the crack,
one eye closed or cautious squint
knowing I have the privilege to ask
is it safe to come out?
what’s for dinner today?
do I have time for another poem?