Wednesday, November 4

nonreligous poem

Forest of Gosh

where the dirt is
that is where I lay down
there is no hippo nearing
I smell nothing

am free
of fear
for now

I roll from my stomach to my back
just to stare at the sun for a bit

I swear
in that moment Of white light
overtaking eyeballs
I saw the shape of you
like a body in the doorway
of the bedroom
late at night

shake it off
I doublecheck
you are not descending
not just yet

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