Ode to an Alarm

An ode for creative writing.

You. 

You, you

Fiend; you

Harbinger of

Nothing good.

Cheery, melodic

Electronic echo

Of some poor

Early morning bird. 

First, you wake me—

I barely take note

Too deep in the dark

Frozen woods of my

Nighttime conjurings.

Like a pretty leaf

Laid flat in my path

I acknowledge

Then turn off

And turn over.

Exactly fifteen minutes roll by. 

Second, you

Disturb me—

Same tone, same key

Same hauling of

My body up

Out of the current

That carries me

Between oceans of

Night and early morn.

Irritation

Like whitecaps on

Young waves

Surges, ebbs.

Snooze again.

The very same fifteen minutes stroll past. 

Then this

Is it.

Thirdly,

I

Would like

To wring

Your

Small

Feathered

Neck.

Incessant

You

Are recalling

My jobs

And faults

Which I

Had hoped

To lay aside

For just

Five

Minutes

More.

You

Make me

Think

Of all things

Depraved

And faulty

And burdensome

And mean.

No doubt

Your mother

Pushed you early

From the nest.

Pause, squint, think.

Thank you.

Begrudging

Thank you.

If not for you

I would be late

For work.