Sunday, June 30, 2024

Early Domestication

Every time you close and drift,
The phrases sneak up on you
Like eyes reflecting firelight.

The poems start to assemble,
Hallucinatory, weird—
Then your own eyes fly open,

And in your waking moments
All the reflective phrases
Darken into ashen glitter.

You breathe evenly, softly.
You start to doze. The phrases
Approach the firelight again.

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