Tuesday, October 26, 2010

St. Evaristus

your tongue is a thorn

underfoot--something to find

when I roll over in sleep,

when I find myself with

everything detached.

my arms are full of lilacs

on the other side of the window.

my legs have crawled under

the bed and refuse to emerge.

I wake up with a headache.

there must be a storm

behind my eyelids.

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