Breakfast

I love the dining hall in the morning

The quiet
Space to just eat for once
Instead of the clamor at meals
Later in the day

The intermittent
clatter of the kitchen
making
food for a slow stream
of students

The unity in the union
No one is there to talk
No one to judge you
Just to eat a breakfast

The quiet
Without the silence
Without what permeates my nightmares
Without that sharpest psychological chisel tearing at me
Without any space for that nagging voice in my head to tell me "it's time to go"

I love the dining hall in the mourning