tnanev-eRe-venate

I went to sleep

Curled myself inside

the mould of the man

who curled here

last night

and wheeled out

this morning

in the routine shift

of the electric humdrum,

the hidden sun rose

this morning,

but we

lay like furrows

in the linen of ourselves,

that they forgot to change

the drip-drip

drop

echo

of his death

is the fluid they in me

to forget to forget

I went to sleep

all I know

are the letters of his death

in the waste of this life

all I see

is me

the sanguine lustre

of tomorrow’s hue

infuse

with the gaze of his words;

the child I lost

to reclaim

through the poetry in death

is him

before he said goodnight-

I went to sleep

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