The Oklahoma Land Rush
Wave,
and I'm driving home
where I wanted you
to stay and sift
through the quiet parts,
night of how I forgot
to speak, draw four
little bags between us.
If you had a necklace.
The sheets are not
clean, but soft, and lead
your eyes through,
the sitting cat through feet,
and if this will suspire
flush the land between us.
I found your necklace.
Now it is on my nightstand.
Quick, I know you have
other things, breaths or
sailing through the sieve,
how can we clasp, or here
we have all the meals
and mornings, my naked
chest, there's
blood all over my pillow. Wait.
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