Friday, April 17, 2009

Ada's #16

Sleep’s Undoing


Though I veer in the direction,

of cool bloom, of crater and rise,

dare the past to deepen its pit,

the careful judge of days machining

the mind, and I’m not afraid of animals

nor afraid of lasting, still, I’m afraid of

my teeth in my own mouth, the way

they click and grind in my head,

but always behind my back.


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