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THE SUN CAME UP LIKE DEATH

by W. Mahlon Purdin

It was a struggle last night
Sleep filled with dreams
Dark dreams of a world that seems
But really isn't. Does that ever happen to you?

My pillows were like rocks
That my mind couldn't eddy around.
The blankets were like those plastic
Bands they use on prisoners.

The clock was always bad news
Unbelievably slow.
As if something were happening
Something I should know.

The sun came up like death
Insidious, and seeping in
As though a conspiracy to steal
Night's last breath.

An auger hangs over me
Its sharp spirals pausing for effect
I stand deep in a hole-to-be
And I'm the architect.

11/21/2005

Posted on 11/22/2005
Copyright © 2026 W. Mahlon Purdin

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