I slept with my window open last night.
I shivered under the thick yellow covers.
Hard starlight and
the wet dregs of dirt,
of everything;
an over zealous tea blender’s
inebriated laugh.
Tossing in the emptiness of dry sheets,
my dreams were soaked through and shifting.
Spicy paper, bleeding words
and the thundering roundness
of a saturated dancer.
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