Fowl’s Foot

I woke up in a dream

That lingered so long I thought the day had ended

I would’ve stayed

The days move like the webbed foot of the fowl

The night stretched in between

But there is no end that I can see

Time is moving faster than I can grasp

It takes me in its current

Up, down

And I can only move or drown

I long for the trick of night

To distract from passing islands and the motion of the sun

I know that the morning will come

And up I will go, nauseous,

And await the fall once again

Separator image Posted in Poetry.

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