i hinge my thoughts
together
with hometown clay,
singing
quietly / to myself while i sleep.
these things grow (in my head),
lullabies
written about you.
you
ring doorbells
in my day, in
the midst of my dreams about you
/and your legs
behind the door, they don't look
like yours.
i plant my/self firmly
to this (no), thinking
we might
somehow kiss
behind closed doors, hiding /out
in front of love,
killing it softly.
water. water. it grows.
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