Michael (Anthony) Cabrera

A Litany For Paper Clips

breath One

the mourning heir traipses

blue, too, begins its pale arc

 

breath Two

Hello, she says

Inheritor of the dawn

begone, or low and slow

the lonely pulse

 

breath Four

Be this before i know

you

will forget

as have i

 

breath Three

the dice are made of Glue

what more can I do

The alabaster breach

has closed its open arms

Collect my last letter, I dare you

dear feverish

 

one

 

too lost in chemical rhythm

 

these popular potions fear unwinking slumbers.

 

for nights forgetting sunrise,

 

fight the urge of dawn or the

 

sex of day's: flesh pressed against next day's skin. i greet the

 

severance of cycles, horizons who

 

ate my dreams, and ignore the full-stop that may be

 

knifed: i unfold your tattered

 

tent, tethered to terra,

 

elevate the eyelids, await

 

noon

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