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Thursday, April 19, 2012

There are cascades of water spinning away from your body,
a splendid, rainbowed truth

in concert with brightly lit, red-orange,
fragmented trivia, assembled and tightly aligned.

The cherished saferoom mountain prize
whispers, This is forever, an eternal residence.

Your breaths have quickened,
and you must be weary, your black legs

razor straight—impromptu
stiffness below navel like a wide-awake eye

as sheets are pulled over them. Nearby,
the streetlights hum their nightly welcome.