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A i logo   A poem a day into the millennium
9 October 1999

The Infinite Regress of Dawn

   There are days when I just want
   To sit at morning like a feast.
   Pulled-up, tucked-down, crinkled
   At the edges, a used laugh
   Lying on the corner of your plate;
   Want to pass you the day's own
   Thousand-taste relish with a tart
   Fillip of the gracespoon, watch the
   Resonances play across your palate
   And tweak you into mischief;
   Want to stretch a half-thought through
   The earnest sun lying nearly risen
   In your hair, hear the counterpoint
   Gurgling beneath the wind, feel
   A breath of whisper on the soul.
- David Mitchell

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