morn's pallid shade hovers

on windowsills       and in my bed

the warmth of cold enfolds my head

i inhale its milk

that silk of night that spins itself onto me

i feel the day not quite break open

crack only       exquisitely

out of my sight sun is an intuition

still far off       but here this gluey hue of
greyish blue

settles me deeper        willing sleeper

loving half light       sense night take a shyer flight

my body burrows into sheets and

my cheek takes shelter all the way

to my feet

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