Midnight for the squirrels and the drunks,
midnight for you dear and your chest hair too,
put your pen down pet and rest here.
Midnight swallowing the mirror whole, swallowing
my mother in her pale blue slippers,
and my brother, my big brother in his too small bed.
Bed, the longed for stopped short sound delivering
us at last from sense-making.
Disagree with half of it, enjoy reading all of it
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