by Edward Michael Supranowicz
I’ve got no one
to sing this song to
it goes like this:
5 am the only people awake in the world we
blink through etherized haze find
an hour passed then trip over a
couch leg on the way to
brush our teeth shoulder to sentinel shoulder
reveille of electric battery and sink stream sputter our
reflections blinked misshapenly back by
the tarnished silver faucet then
the games crossword sudoku Globle until
lavender gives way to high-saturation orange the
summer is waning the air’s on too strong but you
boil the eggs while I slice the toast and we
wince when the blender crackles whining its stubborn
way through bricks of pineapple and mango stellated
fractals mouthfuls of morning
the kettle sings the shower dances to it
there’s yolk on your chin stop
moving just let me
get it
Francesca Tangreti is a graduate of Rutgers University, where she won the Faculty Choice Award for essay. She writes because she can’t stop. She has published poetry with the winnow, giallo, Something Involving a Mailbox!, the Red Ogre Review, 300 Days of Sun, the Gyroscope Review, t’ART, BLEACH!, and others; she has published prose with Sublunary.
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet.