Spring 2007

 

 

 


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What's your sleep number
Elissa Garman

I once fell
asleep
on a rock
facing
East
cold city waves sobering my feet
forcing toes
West
in time to catch the train.
City rocks don’t cradle the spine—rock mattresses
brutally throw you off their slime—just
in time
to drip dry
before
the
fancy people
in
the fancy cars
witness the
poverty
sleeping under
their
telescope observable
stars.

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