EACH AND EVERY

The prayers
remembered from birth
 are song titles
for the anonymous
of the world
or the first lines
of seeping
through the drapes
of every confessional
found in musky church corners,

 

Each word
unsaid echos
in obvious boxes
of a make believe
philosophy, 

It remains
for you
decide
if you're going to
go back to bed
when there
are no dreams
left on the sleep train
or if you'll
rise and yawn
and get pissed off
because there's
nothing left
of the world
you loved

 

Except an empty
cup and
paper filters
brimming with
damp,
depleted coffee grounds.