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Silver-tongued Sleep
you and I,
we borrow the air for cheap, 
trick the water into loving us unconditionally
yet what’s stolen is bled
like a chafing second-hand fire,
upside down on the earth
we’re punished,
blowing conceit from its lyre.
we were hand-crafted, patterned,
from a polyblende of vowels
yet on colliding we’re a biscuit
of aimlessly travelling crumbs
in the tower of meaning,
underneath the universe,
no one can hear us,
our soprano screams.
your body
a basking shark
inhaling the foot of the skies
for excessive momentary relief
the ocean’s shield from a rainy day,
another calculated era of sun and moon
in the dark waters that wring from dirty laundry
that you wash and wash and wear
breastplates of rosacea skin
and faulty promises to keep your knees and hands
at all times inside our vehicle
brown sugar crystals
sketched to the hilt
in the design of divine energy
an egg made of soldered metal,
cracking on the soil
the yoke of my soul.