Going to Sleep
Come back into bed
Before the back hand
Of the shovel in the precise
Insanity of the night
Can swing. Let us
Be murdered in peace.
The air is thin
And someday
I’ll have cloth
For you
Black cloth
Why black
It’s your eyes
Why your eyes
They are black teeth.
You are unclean
Stay here
It is safer.
Tell me about
“The little Hamlets"
Of your old house.
Of your present
Company.
Company.
- Anatol Cordua (c) 2017
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