weave my body into the bed
it's patchwork quilt time
when two scraps make whole.
stipple in and out the sheets,
housekeeping crisp and ignored,
as sandbag legs get thrown
over working shoulders,
broad and bare,
to the grind, grind, grind of
Chicago's street lights,seeping
through the drapes,
through the flesh, peeled back
and shedding snake's skin old.
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