Poetry

 

 

Lola Koundakjian

Awakening

There is a moment before you realize you are awake,
a split second, before the gentle whisper from the heater,
before the need for a glass of water,
or the removal of the sweater the cold night made you wear.

A moment, when your mind is occupied by a picture,
before grey cells remember tomorrow's agenda, or
realize that morning is quite far off
and the coffee is not already made.

A pause before the regurgitation of last night's program,
the excellent book turned into a bad film,
the zests of the salad at dinner time,
the fruity flavors of that red zinfandel.

Before the body overrules the mind to get up, or
turn in bed and return to oblivion,
end the interregnum, ignore it completely,
or take pen to paper and record it gently.

 

 

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