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from the October 2005 issue: Jaguar Tongues

At Times

At times sleep deserts me
and lest I pass the night
turning over in bed
I go out to chat with the moon.

She tells me about the flower
that could turn into a butterfly
and the butterfly
that could turn into fire.

And I wake up
as if all of this
had been a dream.

For the next poem in this sequence, click here.

October 2005
Jaguar Tongues
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