| Tim Bellows
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| Sunday Before We Dress Talk to me while first sunlight points through these drowsy bodies. The cat’s curled, alert, staring with low eyes out of his pool of sun. Tell me the warmer dreams you made, walking toward our light-sharp windows. Tell what’s new under sleep while we look into leaves that grow drunk with brightness outside. While the neighbors’ roofs are still smug. Let’s fill ourselves - as the wind starts up - with the damp anticipation of maples. Come fall together, wavering, made of light, into their million eyes - while the cat stares hard at the air. |
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Copyright © 1999 Tim Bellows All Rights Reserved |
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