What A Morning

“Good morning, dad,” she said
as she landed on the ottoman
in front of me
before even checking out
the hot plate of French Toast
her hair not yet dry
fresh faced
and dressed for school
in her favorite shirt
the solar system
its planets, labelled, swirling in orbit
upon a heathered black universe
around her torso

“When will Jesus come down
to judge the living and the dead?”

I know
I’m an easy target
before my first cup of coffee
but to this one
I can easily say
I don’t know
no
one
knows

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