Snooze Button


Alarms are primal alerts with chimes
pings, rings and jewel-toned sirens to warn
dungeon breath to brush her teeth until the
tooth wand squeaks enamel floors clean.

Alarms break loose and jive to caffeine cravings
replaying until ceramic mug shoots diesel
inked and chalky to the brain;
at least my dad would drink
it this way as burly stomach scoffs distaste.

Alarms are blown-off domes of Mt. St. Helens
stealthy politicians who bargain for
windows of opportunity to
crash, boom, bang
our heads off just to make us feel alive
and jumbled with toxic white lies of ash
begging its constituents to cast a vote
for five minutes more under blankets of smog.

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