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slept on my back last night
dreamt myself hollow

we’re on safari
in the south
hunting tigers
at dollar stores
for our children
roaming in bare feet

we’re on an expedition
through the pantry
looking for our father’s
tequila
to get rid of some secondhand
sorrow
we owe to the blood
we keep in our chests

all my dreams are log cabins
with wood stoves
and a fireplace that sputters
to life when it hears
somebody at the door