No Ray
by Shaina
It’s not bad to have been periwinkle
all night, when all other is dead out of the body in the non-world or the
world, and some are missing and some are together, conscious of conscious or
unconscious, unspeakable actions to speak of or unactable spokens to act on…and
then the hunger, too, the hunger on me and how I’ve always
appreciated it for the clarity and desire like potential energy is
exciting in its many possibilities until it picks one. And I have gone out
in a poof of dousing, as I have come to know it, or I have also had the pulling one
in which I am a fish almost always big enough until morning. But the pinkness
is funny out the window now, reminds me of a time when I thought God was real and would have
spelled it with a dash, you know, the way a child is powder. And I want to stay. Less
egregious this idea of a day nap, now, maybe take it, maybe stay, maybe poof, maybe fish. Close
eyes to the sound of “No! No rray! Sit up, you no ray, prease, no sreep now.” Despite skeptical wake,
saffron air clear in nose opens eyes, stay, no ray, no sreep.
Love!
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