Under the earth. Talking about the angel with the poor boy.
A circle storm rages in the lake.
By its side I cannot force myself to even dream.
Light- inhabiting poolsides- in my mouth.
The next dream knifed in- habit
Made me disown it.
The dream was magenta, close-knit
Of knives and teeth. Something hairless, bold-
A thing such as I had never dreamed before.
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