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Clare Lane

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Night Unfinished

    
The morning is wordless before careful light,
you are hardly breathing,
thin strips of sun
nudging against the closet door
and the bone laying undisturbed at the base of your neck.

Tender dreams mislead the day,
a cotton shield hits your chin
and your toes curl inward from the edge of the bed.
Purple dust rises through draped blind
aand everything waits.