Four Poems

Goodnight Moon

Say I wake and the house is one million
gray rabbits. Say I dial the numbers and you


won’t answer. Say I am tossed among bed
clothes, am lost to solar storms and yellow


paint spilling from a lamp. So what? Then
what? Years ago I wanted a series of parallel


lives, to see how it turns out for all of me:
for self as astronaut or self as raccoon.
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