You yawn like you mean it:
your eyebrows two fed up caterpillars,
your nose a scrunched up fist,
your mouth a doorway to your feelings.
I once worked in an office with no windows
and yawned until the back of my chair snapped,
throwing me to the floor. The stiff carpet
was the one in my primary school classroom
where we were told
You can be whatever you want to be.

© Carl Burkitt 2021