VELVET SLEEP
the
small furry thing on delicate toes
tastes
its tail, presses its nose
erudition
not its game it pads itself into its hole
feathers
from his yester-meals conceal, console
it
doesn’t think of anything
it
doesn’t think of eh-nee-thing
it
doesn’t think of n-eeee-th-eeeng
and
waits and waits and waits
cold
and comfort, fluff and chill
it
nuzzles deeper . . . deeper . . . deep
clouds
simplistic brain with cotton
sculpts
itself warm velvet sleep
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