Aiyana Masla
DEW & DIRT
Every morning, so far, I am alive.
Every morning, as if out of a thicket, or fog
the world returns, slowly seeping, wets
my skin with color. Life rushes in
messy & ordinary
swollen day pressed
against folds unfolding
such softness.
& to my surprise, my teeth are all
still in my mouth,
small & sharp as last night.
Every morning, some living hunger, & birds.