the light from the other room extends
illumination, an obscure shape
the contour of a wing, a bending bough
the idea of contentment, a glass of milk
my psychosis, long abandoned
there, the abstract is familiar
in the warmth, your arms when we sleep
ignoring all inventory of conduct
responsibility is dragging behind, like a hungry fiend
the forgotten shadows
will hunt us down
taunting us, whispering their condolences
© november 2011 heather brager
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