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Night’s Thirst
- Red Hen Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
49 Night’s Thirst To wake up in the middle of the night and find thirst suspended at a swan’s neck faucet of cold aluminum. My toes nimble in the carpet curls, tongue numb, voice mute. The water calls me at its prayer, a mumbling for the scorch in my throat. I cup the cool glitter to my mouth quick and silver mirror of a blink in my eyes: the great cistern of the new moon and the city reservoir where towering lampposts flood a haloed lake purring a thousand insects between two interstates. I drink, my lips dripping, to all the sleepers—men and women floating in the fluidity of dreams, current of a same whisper their lips resting and almost smiling, all of them tight and fitting against each other immobile and undisturbed as spoon against spoon in the kitchen drawer. ...