Stuck on Morning Ritual

Splintered grain bites my fingers

as the drawer stalls, a grudging beast.

That chipped corner catches—hold tight—

handle slips, crashes clack against wood.

Coffee mug threatens a plunge

into chaos of broken morning.

I yank again, rough and raw,

fingernails cracking on rough edges,

the stubborn cavity will not give

its quiet treasure without a fight.

Rough wood and ceramic locked in battle,

the morning ritual bent but not broken.

This drawer refuses easy passage—

like some part of me, trapped and sticky,

held tight by splinters too sharp to pull,

tangled in small, everyday wars.