Premonition
I wake from a dream of sirens and shattering
glass
to breakfast on eggs the color of tow trucks.
Who knows if this will be the day?
In spite of the daily flossing,
in spite of the counting of fat grams,
the club on the steering wheel,
the charm worn close to the breast,
we await the event insurance will not cover.
All it takes is the loosening of a nut,
the clot moving a centimeter
through the narrowed vessel.
Standing before my closet in search of armor
I wonder if this will be the day my dreams
predict
when I stand in the shadow of the volcano
with ashes drifting over me.