Thursday, November 27, 2014

Nervous Sheath - from "Northwest Passage," pilot episode

I grasp thin recognition
by the shoulders,
bell-up hurt in background
consuming the white,
an immense hand
to silence a nervous sheath
of inner worry.
The bed has been slept in,
lace and black coffee a practice.
Late everyday, a verse, no chorus.
I have to re-establish access
to the bottom of the stairs,
don't want to mention
the urgent morning.

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