Idleness

[dara.cv]

Awoken, I lay with my arms thrown
and legs twisted,
as if at night I had met with a violent way.
The birds shrieked to each other in alarm
Sirening to the need of an immediate relief.
My head swam in the rise and sinking
of a confused day,
swimming against all the viscousness
of a muddy bog
swamped by the lethargy of no expectations.
I drank daylight under to a murk of dullness,
farther under still beneath
the quagmire’s more buoyant tipsiness.
Distant now, though sharper still, were the sirens
urgent for a means of true escape.
As if all the years of sleep
could afford me the type of rest I needed
to untangle and ambulate in a different direction
to avoid myself such violence.