It was only an hour earlier
that I arose, shuffling through the sand
with my fingertips now ungloved, the wondrous feeling
of the warm grains cheering me.
Just around the corner, Nell Benson was there -
sweeping bits of dust from the steps
on the docks, making way for earlier sailors.
Throughout the morning, a gentle breeze blew bits
of plastic and whatnot away,
into the crag of my boots if they rose high enough.
In disgust, Nell swiped at the debris with her broom
crying out in frustration to break the morning's silence.
Soon enough, it was the bartender, too
Waking up and rubbing eyes were others, yet,
just arriving from Avery's Court.
It was with a sense of foreboding
at the door creaking lazily open behind the bartender
that I fled, hat tipped over nose.
Back through the secretly placed door
and into the secretly dismal abyss of dust.
Through the door
and onto the dusty boards, I stumble into the shadows coughing.
Without a swashbuckler's grace I am
if in the shadows I hide are not my own.
Above my head, the tavern sings its
ballads dearly, banging away on some imported piano.
My cousin Remmy used to play, but
long since he shot a gun has he returned,
thus making the clattering all the more harmonious.
Although the skies outside are awakening as of yet
I might as well chance a snooze as
it's only the skittering of mice
and other creatures around me keeping me alert.
The brush of the spiders on my jacket,
just barely scraping up on my arms, though just enough for me to care.
When the barkeep begins his verse, I wonder
if I have at last overstayed my welcome.
Perhaps it's time to join the folk
in the humid morning, to give a hand
to the island's rising.
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