Tomorrow a yawn will escape me
as I let go of my pillow and sit up,
stretching my arms and my wings,
laughing at how messy I must look.
I will pull my hair tie out and shake my head,
grinning as the gold that filters through the window
filters through my hair, hugging each strand tightly
and wishing me the best of the luck.
I will readjust my halo, tapping on the band lightly
so it stays at the right angle, and push
the red horns down, covering them with
my hair, my golden-kissed hair,
my favourite accomplice.
Tomorrow I will walk to the mirror and look into the eyes
of the girl looking into mine. I will admire
the beautiful wings spread out behind her,
majestic and glorious and feathery, and ignore
how they are slightly charred at the edges.
When the hot water runs down my body
I will sigh in contentment, loving the feel of the
heat relaxing my muscles. Maybe I will love it
a little too much, I will quickly shut it off before it
gets me too flustered—before the heat
consumes me whole. My halo will flicker and I
will tap on it again, making sure it stays lit, stays glowing.
Tomorrow I will pull the white robe over my
shoulders and do a little spin, I will do a little
funny dance, and I will laugh at the way
the silk feels, all comfortable and soft
and safe. I might wish it were leather instead,
tight black leather grinding furiously against
my skin. My halo will flicker again, and I
will stop to adjust it. Just three
little spanks – three little taps – against the gold
band, make sure the dull goes away, disappears.
But maybe tomorrow it won’t.