seven o’clock lick.

As 7
fell from the clock,

I found morning standing

on my face, it’s feet
planted deep in my

cheeks tugging on my eye-

lashes, mumbling
some indistinguishable

bright tirade,
just for fun, I thought.

I said I was trying to sleep,

and morning replied
that if I didn’t get

swinging I’d be late for work














Photo: Emilie SCIARLI ~


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