Not Night Prayer

Night of the Grasshoppers, and

The Night Stink Bugs Appeared on the Walls,

and the Night I Tried the Gloves On

and I wanted to throw them back and

The Night of My Inklings not to. To fall on under-

gardened impatiens and little thumbs

of roses, names of flowers i don’t know

and turn them over on Nights I Slept

on the Couch in the kitchen. There

was this window the city was through.

I fixed myself like an insert between

the buildings, walking lengthwise,

Pabst Nights and Nights that I

Just Listened and you picked me up

and you set me down.

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