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Ode to my Bolster
unborn baby
cushioned against pyjama
when the day rolls away
it rolls into my
melting limbs. It presses
against me,
a child’s embrace.
When the blurry dark slips down my throat
and collects in my stomach,
red dolls’ cheeks against window
ghost hanging on blurry rack
when night metamorphosizes,
pregnant with blurry horrors
all in the mind assailed by night’s evil disposition,
it serenades me:
a mother’s lullaby. Tunes
running through tired veins,
melodies growing on
my body. Its presence:
a lullaby. When I curve around it
I am invincible, a warrior with a humble sword
against the quiet battlefield of the night.
My leg
over its wrinkled cloth;
it wraps its reassuring glow
around a fatigued frantic mind.
As my legs slip through
the rabbit’s hole and it
closes
closes
closes up;
a backward glance
shows me a round, round, round
long, long, long
bolster.
It sends me into
a concerto of steady sleep.
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