I wake up slowly

When I turn on the coffee maker it sighs in relief that it’s a new day.
While it brews and gurgle happily,
I step into the river and start to separate my feelings  through my fingertips. –

I think I just realised I’m not awake.
But when I open my eyes the coffee is there, having waited for me a couple hours already.
The river is still flowing in my head and I can still feel the slithering of feelings through my fingers like little copper fishes.
I must have borrowed them from Del, they are probably on their way back to her now.

I hitch my leg over the duvet and felt the weight of heavy air and dreams rushing,
just under my pillow.
I could paint my face and fry my eggs, pour my coffee and feel the cold.
I could.
Like I do every day.
I could.
The copper fishes are nibbling on my eyelashes and I fall backwards into an avalanche.

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