TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT
(A Ghazal)
The cat curves her back in four directions
before dawn. Geckos leave the outdoors.
Venus follows the moon. I take breakfast
from sweets. My throat is full of dreams.
Sunlight filtered by leaves and wind reaches
white paper. Tea paper holds two cups.
These fleas will live and then die before dusk.
Turn off the fan, the day has November on its breath.
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