OUT OF THE FOG
Sleep addressed
me familiarly, calling
She takes a third of our lives and when
we come back this way a second time
doesn’t recognize us
traipses to the curtains to let
in the broken glass light of clouds
CLOSED
read the sign on the dream shop door
the battered mouse a gray dust ball
about two days dead
roared about lost innocence
to a loose sock on the closet floor
ripped anew
out of the upside
down canoe
(sleep’s protection)
She takes a third of our lives and when
we come back this way a second time
doesn’t recognize us
traipses to the curtains to let
in the broken glass light of clouds
CLOSED
read the sign on the dream shop door
the battered mouse a gray dust ball
about two days dead
roared about lost innocence
to a loose sock on the closet floor
ripped anew
out of the upside
down canoe
(sleep’s protection)