Dissatisfaction at Seven AM

There are forty-two

butts in this tray.

None

of them are mine.

I am more careful

of my poisons,

of a white bread and mayonnaise

self-harmer.

Ferns on my

windowsill trace

hieroglyphs

in this morning’s

condensation,

signing

“Feed us, it is spring”

Reaching through

what is possibly

magical air

I trace my finger

through the dust

motes softly landing.

“not until the aloe blooms”.

The cat mewls,

curling on the carpet,

a commentary,

like steam rising from

this cup of coffee,

not my favorite

eye-opener

but the one

I am forced to drink.

K. L. Johnston is a poet and photographer whose favorite subjects are whimsical, environmental, and/or philosophical. She first published at the age of sixteen and has been writing ever since, mostly non-fiction and poetry. Her work has appeared in literary and historical magazines, with poetry appearing in journals ranging from Small Pond magazine in the 1980s to online publications such as Wild Roof Journal and Humana Obscura. While wrangling seven children to adulthood she stumbled into a career as a dealer in art and antiques from which she is now gleefully retired. She has finally discovered the delight of drinking a cup of tea while it is still hot.