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The Purring Alarm Clock

In Memory of Toby, April 2021- March 2022

This morning you embrace

the sun’s first rays,

a new day’s light

igniting your wonder.

Stretch to expose pale

belly to a kind universe.


There was a time

when morning hung

like a lead apron

pressing the shape

of reluctance

in the sheets.

I put my faith in dark

crystals to pry open

my eyes. Today,


incredulous at closed

eyelids or doors, press

my chest, bite my bicep,

pour sounds of sunbeams

on sand in my ear.

Jean Janicke is an economist, coach, and writer. She lives in Washington, DC with her husband and two rescue cats. Her work has appeared in Paddler Press, Green Ink Poetry, and Minnow Literary Magazine.

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