I allow myself

I allow myself

the luxury of breakfast

(I am no nun, for Christ’s sake).

Charmed as I am

by the sputter of bacon,

and the eye-opening properties

of eggs,

it’s the coffee

that’s really sacramental.

In the old days,

I spread fires and floods and pestilence

on my toast.

Nowadays, I’m more selective,

I only read my horoscope

by the quiet glow of the marmalade.