22 Apr 2014

She lays,
Turned to the side of a pillow,

Eyes tight,
Hands between her legs protecting violation

From the spirits
She dreams of, but two fingers part,

Like a peeking kid.
This space, this gap she fills with

Just the tongue,
Of fantasy, this ghost who sings her away

Every night
When the sheets tighten and she drifts off.

[circa 1988]

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