i unplug the hour

i unplug the hour

sit in silence

a thousand whitewashed walls

between us

his smile ancient

like glued sentences

his arms, warm

it’s a darker night tonight

few stars

fog gone

naked rain boots drying in corner

he writes the strangest metaphors



pen purged

voice hesitant

light bulb sheltered

by receiver

i retire to bed

lull a blue cough, good-night

by mary ann blinkhorn