Extract:
from The Light

The city clings like skin to the back of me,
like summer sweat, my oils mixing

with the humidity of the night.
Sleep the language I am speaking,

every move mimicking death.
My body leaves a signature

in the sheets. I rise; my feet touch the carpet’s
canvas
cooling me slightly. The window spilling moonlight

into the room. Artificial light born from the TV
mimics
the light of the sky. Voices like my vision, blurred.

My hands snakes to the remote to mute the sound
that brought me to sleep and in this moment
awakens me.

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