The Only Miracle

That two eyed clock.
Winking. Letting time run the show.
My eyes shuffle a mixed deck of visions
and I am held in the arms and legs of a dream.

Awake now in thickening skin with
the heat of consciousness rising up
with the radiators. With toast and coffee creeping up the stairs
as sheets and pillows become our shirts and pants.

The wood floor
footed by day waits through the night
astonished to feel the splash of toes again,
surprised by an ordinary Lazarus, up and walking
while an open window lets in the peeping eyes of the whole day
that lurks laughing and walks with the arms and legs of a dream.

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