Sleep peels,
like burnt skin,
from my flesh.
Eyes burn
from the unshuttered
sun
and bed
is a place
of cantering words
rising through
the plains behind my eyes
my thoughts
my night watch
my guardians
of waking light
Nails
A hard head
good for beating
on a wall
like a hammer
on a nail
Harbinger of spring
wet rose
you sprout
you wilt
your prison
sentence
your cage
holds you
then, rain
falls
storms like
sopping gray cloth
above you
the glass
defends you
in defense
spring dies
My thoughts
cantering, smooth and winsome
My thoughts
galloping, loose and torrid
My thoughts
trotting, up and down and up again
My thoughts
ambling in and eking out
My thoughts
halt.
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