Posted by: Ron DuBour | April 6, 2019

Clean sheets~by Stephen Miles



Clean sheets

Slipping between crisp
clean sheets of cotton
skunk drunk, knowing
thunder will pound on the rise.

Silhouette of your all
slightly stirs, shifting
accommodation position
gifting tolerance.

A, where tolerance isn’t
merited, less the non,
the silhouette, cheek turns the other
your flickered flame, precarious.

Comforted by the crisp
you fall, deep sleeping
beyond the sun and silhouettes rise
slobbering deep into the noon.

The crisp, now not so
dishevelled at best, terminated
at worst, as you hang like a zebra’s testicle
yet the sun shines it’s best.


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