Winter Mornings with My Coffee
The haze from Dad’s bong
creates cosmic shafts of light
rays pearl, take on heft and color
as Nala watches from her cat tree
thinking of catnip pyramids.
Dad coughs, opens the window.
The day is bright and cold,
fragile like a winter good mood
and the trees sense it too,
how brittle the light is
how much there could be to speak about
before we let the day begin.
Allison Burris grew up in the Pacific Northwest and currently lives in Oakland, California. She received her MLIS from San Jose State University and her poetry appears or is forthcoming in After Happy Hour Review, Passionfruit, Opal Age Tribune, Avalon Literary Review, and elsewhere.
The Marbled Sigh 