by drew deGennaro

Where I live the lights are left on

And spread like a blanket over the darkened cage

Where they chirp well past twelve and

That melody is why we sleep, with such ease


And in his chair, on top of the sturdy wooden floors

One of Father’s hands supports his neck.

Nodding up and down, feet caught by the winds,

The supplemental air is sweet

A pillow placed at the end of his head.

Flying with dreams he swallows his breath again.

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