The Tower Journal

Harold Whit Williams

Aubade For Yet Another Day

The morning is, whether I want it to be or not.
Slips through the open window with birdsong.
Hangs before me like some painting forgery,
Like a cracked bathroom mirror displaying
My backwards message forwards. Morning
Redrums me with its squeaky child voice,
Sports a seventies haircut, blood-red sweater.
Morning clambers out of a cold muddy creek
And splashes us all with its wet dog fur.
Morning watches its weight, never hits snooze,
Checks weather and traffic before stepping out.
Morning unfolds itself like a Triple A roadmap
Awaiting the cinnamon-sugary muffin crumbs,
The inevitable coffee rings. And try as I might,
I cannot find that cutoff road to the afternoon.
Try as I might, I cannot fold morning and fit it
Back inside the rental's glove compartment.
Next exit - fifty miles. Jesus on the radio.

Copyright © 2014 Harold Whit Williams

Harold WilliamsHarold Whit Williams is guitarist for the critically acclaimed rock band Cotton Mather. He is a featured poet in the 2014 University of North Texas Kraken Reading Series, and is also recipient of the 2014 Mississippi Review Poetry Prize. His newest collection of poems, Backmasking, is winner of the 2013 Robert Phillips Poetry Chapbook Prize from Texas Review Press. He lives in Austin, Texas.

The Tower Journal
Fall/Winter 2014