Upon Waking Up Black in Henniker, New Hampshire.

• Author: Thomas, Truth
• Position: Poem

(4 Judith Vollmer)

1. I wake up in a New England motel room. I have come to get lost in poetry. It is too early to look for a compass. I have separation

   anxiety from my mattress. I look for my cell phone to see what time it is. I look for my cell phone because the battery in my watch has died.

   Everything dies--but you knew that. It's 6:52 AM according to the phone. I climb back into bed. I have anxiety from my mattress--

   separation. I tell myself there is still more time for sleep. I am lying to myself. Everybody lies, but then again, you knew that.

   Green of spring glows through my window. The sky is an ocean with clouds as sailing ships. My toes kiss the cool of the

   blue gray speckled floor. My arms hug clothes that hang on the edge of clean. I sniff and sniff and sniff. I am decidedly funky

   but not irreparably so. I zombie-walk to the bathroom to shower and answer the call. I carry along the essentials: towel, toothpaste, soap

   washcloth, mirror, shaver. Water on: I edify all my most valuable players. Water off: I drip and dab and dash.

2. I remember flying into Manchester Airport and thinking New Hampshire looked like a giant green afro from the sky, and I

   loved this airborne vision--trees that look like no one was ever lynched from them--or whipped or burned, or cut. Though I know this isn't

   true, when I walk through Henniker's hurryless hillsides, it feels like I'm massaging the overburdened temples of the earth.

3. How is it possible I will forget the pleasure...