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


About mckenzielynntozan

McKenzie Lynn Tozan lives and writes in Indiana, where she works as a virtual assistant, editor, and freelance writer via her self-started business, MLT Creative. She 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 Poetry Editor for Third Coast. She previously completed her B.S. in Secondary English Education and B.A. in English, with a Concentration in Writing, at Indiana University South Bend, where she worked as the Managing Editor for 42 Miles Press. Her poems have appeared in Rogue Agent, Whale Road Review, the James Franco Review, Emerge Literary Journal, Encore Magazine, Thank You for Swallowing, The Spooklet, Sleet Magazine, and Analecta, among others; and her book reviews and essays have appeared on The Rumpus and Motherly. When not writing, she enjoys art and music, and the simple mathematics of being a wife of one, a mama of two, and a cat-mom of three. For more, visit View all posts by mckenzielynntozan

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