Ode to the Alarm

Shannon Pugh

The morning death march machine
Waking me from peace so sweet
Polluting the air with symbolic sound

I light a cigarette 
As my mother has done every morning,
I too struggle breath

I am the seed of the Kentucky farmer
Planted deep under the black soil
Rooted in painful love and chaotic harmony

I too make the march from morning to night
Just as my father's skin burn under the summer sun
I am my father's dream

And I too will die
The alarm clock in the constant reminder
Counting my days into the forlorn dirt

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