Saturday, December 27, 2008


Holding the left hand of sunrise
Above the fogline, thin spires cut the blue
Stars still sprinkle the shrinking dark
Like little punctuation marks of kisses
Sunrise’s right hand cups my flesh, pulls me to waking
Traces orange patterns of veins and bones
Traces my lips
Bright replaces the purples I wrap around me when I sleep
Just a few more minutes
I want to hold the sun
Right here

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