Thursday, June 12, 2014

Three nights, three pillows

The third night you appeared in my dream
I stopped calling it coincidence
I do not call it fate either
Now I sleep
my eyes are wide open
to avoid your various apparitions
I pull myself away from 
frames of silver pictures
moments gold in memory
The pull saves the space 
you fill
three pillows and a Labrador
breathe differently 
above my right shoulder.  

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