Morning Song

MORNING SONG

Lackadaisical cries, and the morning
is open. Outside, the world

is still dark, but in here—through
the neighbor’s walls—I hear the earth

turning. She is small, perhaps three,
and I can imagine her in the small

purple pajamas I saw when the family
first moved in. Her hair, a springtide

of brown curls, bounces
the more she screams. It is nonsensical,

hardly a word, but the odd, loud cries
of birds. Then, the thud

that can be heard throughout
the house, and the quiet that impedes.

This has become the norm.

We do not speak of it, we do not
show signs of understanding.

We are quiet, and the morning simply
proceeds.

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About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in South Bend, Indiana, where she works as the Departmental Secretary of English and World Language Studies at Indiana University South Bend, and remains closely affiliated with 42 Miles Press, New Issues Poetry and Prose, and Wolfson Press. She previously received her MFA in Poetry from Western Michigan University, where she worked as the Layout and Design Editor for New Issues Poetry and Prose and as an Assistant Editor of Poetry for Third Coast. Her poems have appeared in Encore Magazine, Sleet Magazine, Rogue Agent, Thank You for Swallowing, Whale Road Review, The James Franco Review, The Birds We Piled Loosely, and Analecta; and her book reviews have appeared on her website and on The Rumpus. She lives with her husband, their daughter, and three cats. For more, visit www.mckenzielynntozan.com. View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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