Dawn Thread (Poem)

Errant fable,

the dawn is threading its way through your bones.

Your pages are hacked apart by the voices in your head

but if you would only tell them everything will be fine by the end

then perhaps your between-the-lines would be silent.

 

You speak as if your spine is still.

You wander like dream through

window sill.

 

Aim at the cloud,

and the rain will never touch

what isn’t meant to be translated

from text

into mud.

 

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