a hundred times consider what you've said,
sleepily indifferent –
the chill of closed eyelids
the trick is to make it personal.
i'm drunk – i stand on the porch in my bathrobe
let silence drill its hole
disappear, emerge, twitch, reverse course.
what he needed from me i have no idea.
oh plunge me deep in love—
in the glaring gap
*this piece created for a contest. my entry is here.
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