dance-like

a noise I hear is slipp-
ing, soaking wet like ripe
sweat drips from fingertips
dries cool the taste is slight-

ly strong pulls taut young skin
as music heard is scream-
ing sounds are close or in-
side, nearly there. it seems

a seam not sewn comes frayed
unravels lids resent-
ing eyes now open stay
alarmed, kindly invent-

ing thoughts one has forgotten
regrets the lack of sleep-
ing here alone and hot
while toss and turn repeat.

Nicole Vlado

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