I wake and the room is still grey.

I don’t know what I hoped for.

My brother used to say magenta

is not a real color to upset me and

it upset me. My toy hippos, the dog

from television. The bathroom tile 

white and cold. I reshape my eyebrows,

feel the empty skin between. At noon:

cottage cheese. One square dark chocolate.

I see my body as basically redeemable.

Would someone please invent a garbage bin

that does not rattle on its way to the curb,

does not wobble my whole day. Allow me this

one dream where my life is not a tongue.