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NEVER REST (WAREHOUSE)
i rest on my knees
never my ass
always on concrete
never earthly
ceiling breaks
into crystals, the color
of tears, the texture –
should i wrap my best finger
in gauze and call it a ghost?
i’m counting time with boxcutter
the window oozing –
spent too much
on wine last night
for you – din of change
hits the hard floor’s ears –
everyone on it froths
from the mouth – pine
sap bleeding out –
insect birth – more
hours, hours
now spectral
in child’s eye, whose empty
sky fills the same time
every day, a child’s mouth
unfurling tongue
to taste, to harbor
angel tears on sides of tongue –
and what are angels like,
dusk, like morning, like all
the boxes in between
Benjamin Socolofsky
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