morning protocol

statues on prayer books ©papa osmubal

statues on prayer books ©papa osmubal


morning protocol

adam aitken

                                               “Money is a kind of poetry”
                                                –Wallace Stevens

It was time for breakfast
but there was no breakfast.

The statues had been waiting
too long for their morning’s

offering of flowers, sweet water.
Gorgeous flower vendors

making beds and cleaning
the toilets in the five star hotel.

No shortage of offerings.
Luxuriance. But

always the hunger,
the empty shelf

where the flowers
should go.

If not flowers, then rice,
cigarettes, an orange.

What warning was there in this?
Who had spoken,
who had heard?
True, the neighbours
whispered: he didn’t believe,

he would do away
with all statues.

But he believed in the tray,
and a big tip he threw

with great fuss and ceremony
on a battered tray of nothing.

Always.

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