Maybe in the morning
with
trees against clouds
my headache will be gone
like
thin boundaries of time
Maybe in the morning
so
easy the slip
he’ll come for me again
into
the frame of my life
Maybe in that morning
in
my life I’ll see them
when he’s no longer here
in
my own space, but
Maybe in some morning
with
membranes against the sky
I’ll see rainbows in the trees
leaves
eaten by worms.
© 2022 Muriel Thumm
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