Routine

Fear resides in temptation.

In repeated feelings dug into veins

That you did not recognize

At the first wide turn,

So you turned your head sideways

To the life you thought you knew:

 

Families tip-toeing around houses

In respect for the other, for the cold-

Stricken child, for the father

At dawn, eyes departed,

Legs at rest until routine kicks

Him in once more.

 

We know nothing as it used to be

Until it returns. Yet all is now—

Like feathers in my down pillow

Weaning me in, slowly.

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