I sleep too often
alone. I slip
into my sheets
like a knife inside
a sheath. I skin
my knees in falling
dreams.
I’m a freelance
night priest. I write nun
fiction books to fall
asleep. I trace
strongly worded
letters. I mark
typos on my toes
with red felt pens.
I fix comma
splices, I hate
comma splices more
than gondola rides
and square root
canals.
I sleep too often
alone with my phone
on gyrate slipping into
dreams like a knife
inside a sheath.
I wasted four years
in military art school
drawing blood baths
then reversed course
on my high horse mid-
stream of consciousness.
I’m so fucking
alone. I told a priest
my tongue is sharper
than a knife
between my teeth.
