slug trails trace morninglight
across specular shards of granite
silverflash catches my eye from the kitchen
I stand in dressing gown
carefully wiping sharp crystals
from my eyelids
I track my tongue across the inner
surface of gritty teeth, worn enamel catching
that sticky muscle still
bitter from travels taken
through night's dark concourses
I dreamt of a long passage, worn feet,
and typewritten pages left to rot in thick, damp grass
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