SANCTUARY
The bedcovers always made awry
in symmetry with my days.
A purple pad here for a tawny feline body
bearing throaty blessings for me,
a fragment of life, silky and soft,
a living cloud in my hands and now
for eternity like the rug on which
you tripped, the sum of my hope:
A will not to die, yet a mighty power
and the doll on the dresser wearing a cap
all wrong for its velvet dress, my joke,
gone on for years.
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Ron
budd