Aubade

In sticky haze under dappling trees

shadows and limelight

coagulate

after coalescing

through the night.

Emerging to a lurid sun

that slides up into the deep,

lifting its crusty eyelid,

I walk

down a pointless street

of morning people,

dumb pets

and coffee.

The stale alcohol

and cigarette breath,

the scintillating light

and compression of garbage

have a Doppler effect

on my stagger

so I skip,

but no matter how fast I skip

away from sidelong glances,

round corners,

under shopfronts,

impersonating shadows

to outfox the light,

I can’t escape the smell

catching up with me

of someone else

on my skin.

(published in Meanjin, 2011)