Arlene Ang | The 2River View, 10.1 (2005) |
The 49th Day
He breathes, and slowly, dreams of falling: voices. Moon waxes inside a bubble coming the unavoidable extinction of bluefish, not The oxygen tank is dark-green and gurgles, Somehow I keep thinking he needs a haircut, on his legs. It’s easy to get lost between in the vinyl record. Yesterday he talked about tadpoles, those lemon trees in the horizon, slightly of burnt candle wax. A robin idles to say goodbye? At brief intervals, he wakes. |
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