corner store lights 

like pulsing life blood 

in the field 

one car 

and one 

good morning

that shutters curtains

yeah, yesterday is definitely over 

but you defiantly swivel 

towards your beacon 

hoping your fever goes down 

and that little bite 

under your eyelids 

that says

stay open 

stays open 

standing here 

for a moment 

that’s not the sun

a headlight maybe 

there’s not much difference 

propel your body forward 

with the notion 

of saying grace 

prolonging the exhale 

draining the fragile joy

that gives you claws 

in beige corridors 

and beige walls 

with beige persons

you manage a polite mumble 

and crack the glass 

open 

you’re open 

stay open 

let the brightness 

be your golden. 

– sheila c