Writing in the dark
I attempt to recapture
the pleasure of ciphering.
Scratch unseen dialogue
on a mattress
that ‘s heard it all. My
lines wander, mouth mates
mutual glottals, tongue
wrapped couplets, I parade
sheet after sheet of posery
through time immemorial
(on the page what time isn’t?)
I wrestle with tempo and foot
trying to find the sense within
each. Clichés renewed,
my Braille talks back with
out tearing, no breeching,
the night births unattended.

I do not push it away, hasten;
urge it into light, compel;
I do not fear the dawn—what
the revealed words might tell.

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