last night
the ocean was not deep
crimped with sand bars
and an eel's whiskered mug
shot behind an elopement of grey

i snorkeled
surfacing often to measure
my distance from the shore
adrift in time, or so it seemed,
in a dowdy eloquence of grey

i prefer
the nights when I plunge
past the grip of Mars' steady blinking
to the clandestine trenches
into the darkness - the magnet of grey

and then
to come up spluttering
surprised by the silvering
bubbles of yesterday rising
through the moon-smile, the merest sliver of grey.

9 thoughts on “sleep

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