for
Sandy
dried blush roses kept in
a nightstand vase, blue
& white quilted
bedspread, windows sloped to catch
the moon’s reflection of
the white rose blooming
by the porch where the cat shuts its lunar eyes,
where bamboo chimes lend night
a tongue; the alarm
clock’s chimes, aluminum
birds singing in a
breeze, the one spinning
holographs into flesh
here at the intersection
of dreams & hands
Jack Hayes
© 2017
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