there is a small voice
that seeps out from between
the sheet and the mattress
a wild call into the dark,
a request for much more light
than I can possibly give.
it tells me that there is a path
straight across this wheezing city
that leads to you.
there is something like Olympus
behind your teeth, in the darkness
that feels like home.
you spit out tonight
like a pit, strings of fruit
stuck in all the tight places
of your mouth.
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