9 to 5 by Monica Garcia

9 to 5

I ate an apple fritter once
A honeysuckle whisper
Glazed each hair within my ear
And told me to look from the screen

I sat by a window
Happy and soft
A dimple tugged shyly at my cheek
A coat of sugar crowned my teeth

Then the clock, upon the ninth hour
Ticked and tousled its morning hymn
I swallowed in shame, a begging whisper
And closed the drapes another day.

I sipped warm tea with lemon once
A cumin seed powered a song
And stretched the deepest baritone
To juice my piercing bones.

A lime drop rested on my tongue
And drowned the cracking skin
And dared to dress behind a hum
The scarring screams within

Then the half-hour struck,
And coughing up, upon a pulp
My bare feet plead again
Not to walk on that burning dessert

Of golden sand
And golden coins

Once I ate an apple from a tree
And upon the fifth hour
My teeth ripped from my skin
And my blood drenched
the yearning soil
And the tree stretched high

And its green leaves flapped away
Sighting whispers
On green-driven eyes

And I sat with a half-eaten apple
And with blood-stained soil
And browning leaves,
To rest and mourn.

Monica Garcia resides in California and studies writing for Film, television and electronic media in Palomar College. Monica has experience in formatting television rundowns/news packages, and developing PSAs for a non-profit organization. She is a Latina author writing themes of nature and human emotion.

Image credit: Desert abstract (vecteezy.com)