115/365

There was a lot behind the curtains,
like so many people
seem to say around the time
the check was delivered to the table.

It’s like the sun sits
in your eyes at the very bend of the mountain
road, and you let it,
because you know it’s all so temporary,
and your eyes hurt for the beauty
of the unknown. Blank page eyes,
like vulnerability feasts on hotel sheets

and the soft oranges waiting in a bowl
for complimentary alarm
clock waves. 

[image: Tanya Ostannja]