It's Too Early in the Day to think of Love

Dreams crawl on the walls
like steam from a broken jar,
as I lie awake
in my first minutes of day.

I jumped panicked from my bed,
at the sound of whispers.
but there was only music,
timidly entering my room,
from invisible speakers.

A voice reminded me:
"Mother will not give you
the softest of kisses"
and I let my eyelids close
heavy with paracetamol and caffeine,
slipping patiently into delirium.

Days in which I played
in southern orchards.
Maps that came to life in my head.
How happy I was to have my hands in my pockets
instead of having them reach for other hands to hold.

But it's too early in the day to think of love.