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Mark Cunningham
nightlightnight
Mel Nichols |
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| 1-3 a.m. | ||
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Shaved hair prickles back its itch. Somewhere someone is whispering,
but here the clock stutters. When I click off the flashlight, there
they are, tables and shoes "vague at first then becoming clearly
manifest." Any fever rekindles. My eyelids deflate. Still more
galaxies.
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