Day Sleeper
Lost out of the picture,
fallen out of life,
cut-eyed shut down
from all the cars and trains
and all this carrying and breaking
and lines of words without spaces.
You breathe softly, regular,
as if in a deep wood,
as paced as a slow piston
in exile to yourself,
a half life turned inside
as if the strings that
could lift you
hang loose in the sunlight.
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2015
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