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I Turn In My Bed

By Brendan Jeremiah Ryan Newcomb

the rapture of your breath consuming
leaves my mouth gaping
repressed songs dancing

tiny fingers birth my warm complexion
as you sow an reap my fields connection
a complex irrigation

a forest fire of amber grain
cast your curly drapes from game to game
a flow to remain

your whispers giggle a tent of yesterday
I revel in your bay
as you lay merely 1800 miles away