Bathmats in Cycle Machines

2 May

When I awoke
I looked over at you –
our night of bathing in spit –
With your hatchling hair and
Dribbly nose.

I thought
God, that was a dumb mistake.

Once, I stomped
On an empty silicone shell –
beaks birthed in tree stumps –
And I imagined it was your
Lungs deflating.

I thought
God, you are so precious.

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