You say the morning breaks

How has morning ever broken?
Always Time;
doggedly chasing the full moon cat.

The beast, put to sleep,
heaves up again from the slab,
gnashing and squirming
under dawn's scalpel.

Flesh sloughs from bone.
Night recoils its embrace--
a velvet anemone.

Daybreak's bleached fossil,
dupe to duties of a million years--
birthing and burying
the sludge of stars.

steals me from dreamy coma,
waking to that heavy reproach
that crushes to dust,
to glint in rising columns
as I lie broken.

1980 John Goss