Shudder To Think The Hair Pillow
Veins and a rope. Gold hair wrung out. Laughing. From back of the sheep-shack, a high bleat hum. Veins map the hair pillow. Strung out. I'm sleeping. Its the kind of a nap, though, you don't wake from. Sky of gold. Pink and lazy in pond I lay. Take it slow. Drunk and crazy in a pond I lay.