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Sway You lay curled around your dreams like A tawny blonde cat with a retainer. Your lover sleeps with his eye shade, His arms around you and a new beard Dawning on his face. I watch you as you sleep to the tune Of the traffic and breathe to the mantra Of the wooden cross suspended From your window, swaying In the breeze. I watch the light become morning And the traffic become New York. And I think that the yellow flowers On the table beside your bed Are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. |
Additional Notes:
Previously published in The Adirondack Review
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