Sunday, March 10, 2019

Poem: March 10, 2019

Sleeping In

Midnight, Emerson
rests against my hip and purrs
me back toward sleep.

My dull, heavy mind
opens and closes like eyes
or like a heart beat.

Sleep is a sinking
into another self or
swimming back to shore.

My consciousness drifts
closer to solid land like
the tide coming in.

Then, reality:
light through the slats, you snoring,
my bladder is full.


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