She’s Going to Get Herself Killed

I get irrational in the mornings

If I hear anything

I start threatening with death

Throwing things

And saying the most awful things

I only know this secondhand

Because I’m asleep

But apparently I toss out

Horrendous insults and

Belittle whoever is making noise

Like Cyrano de Bergerac

I scream, apparently, I scream

Long drawn-out affairs

Then collapse into the pillows

I take my dreaming seriously

Grandma called at about ten

When she knows

She fucking KNOWS

I wake up at noon

And she says

“I just thought you might for some

Random reason be awake.”

And when I was

I was naked standing in the hallway

Holding a tube of lube for a weapon

At unseen enemies

Why won’t that fucking woman call at a civil hour?