Inroads are mugged by dream-walking eyes.
Time swallowed up into itself;
a time when heroes are at their weakest,
lions hunt within a narrowing back alleyway of night.
both ceiling and floor push into each other.
Then the green-eyed cat leaps;
you try to hide from its luminous eyes,
but it is curious,
flesh is becoming softly compliant,
Mist moves through a dendritic forestry.
Only then when you are a thought aimed at a nowhere
does the dawn light slip inside like a naked girl
through a cleavage of veils.
The cat relaxes inside the hollow
of a newly dredged heart
the world finds its face, commences to purr.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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