metania…

metania

with the color of sleep

still present on my cheek

each icon greets

my shallow breathing with

heavy gaze-

my forward leaning

lips lingering

on words that will

sink into my skin-

traveling high-speed non-stop commuter train

from head to chest

east and west

moving deeper now

than the floor below

my reach,

my touch,

my trembling fingers

performing

this small effort

as if to retrieve

something lost

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