Sunday Morning Hangover

By: Whitney

5 o’ clock

morning dew

the day cracked open to

start a new

but I’m not ready for this one

yet.

mind’s trippin’ while I’m

sippin’ water in the shade

from a cool grass

blade, my eye catches the sky

burp

orange chunks, washed in

yellow urine and then –

deafened by silence this hangover

winks on my temple

aches, quakes, rain on my

head, feet, and ankles

hilarious pain delayed

from last night’s beating

over-amplified sparrow’s song

sends a greeting

to my brain’s weakest side

sour swims in my mouth

like dumpster juice, both limbs

amneisia, doesn’t know who

they are, nausea is never far

But it was all worth it.

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