999 P

sleep encloses me
in the arms of tyrant
out here on my own
party lawn
snoozing on a plastic
kid’s chair

are we in the company
we need
feel it
or deserve it
or desert it

she said
tied up in a storm branch
a crown of bread ties
pieces or mold
in her teeth

she goes out at night
walking valleys
running gaps
in the morning

never wanted to be someone else’s
exhale

she and her new man
eaten up by the day
but I have sleep as a gentle
tyrant
and she keeps me company
when the nights spin out

my teeth fall out

never wanted to be anyone else’s
exhale