Morning

by Marley Reedy

Today it is 7 am and delicate like a woman should be.

It will be quiche after thoughtful silence.

Today it is pale yellow and flannel.

A woman could be morning if she was unbroken.

To my sister, it is not.

Today it is the narrow hallway and the narrower road.

It could be opaque if unbroken by man.

Could a woman be broken by molten sky.

My mother won’t know until morning.

The woman could be a woman still if she wasn’t the morning.

I am not the morning woman.

I am born after midnight.

Marley Reedy is a biracial woman from Brooklyn. Her writing is a blend of internal, external, and abstract observation. She enjoys listening to old love songs and unearthing the poetry of everyday life.

Illustration by Tesfay Saleh-Batts