Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Pretzels

It's been weeks since I dreamed of these things:
Freely found pretzels, pizza--long tables of people
eating. Other nights I dreamed of masks without
wearing one. I haven't left the house since March.

It's been a few hours since I dreamed of writing,
of The Byrds, of Ephesians and the season turning.
Change is spoked by hope and it revolves near
morning, in women with pretzel earrings, pretzels.


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