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POEM: Thief


I’m supposed to be asleep.
You told me.
Hanna told me.
I’m awake, though, with
Australian indie rock
on the speakers
& daffodils on the table.
I fight the critic at night.
Tonight we ganged up on him
& he vanished like
Smeagol’s other half.
I’m supposed to be asleep.
The first iteration of that line
looks longer because of
the short line that follows.
It’s an illusion, though,
a story my eyes tell my brain,
which is a credulous creature
at the best of times.
Now there’s a queer nonbinary
songwriter playing
& I still haven’t gone to bed
because the night is
what I steal back from the day.

/ / /

12 March 2024
Charlottesville VA

Published in My poems Poetry


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