keeps insisting
that I am a treasure
in his red eye.

His night transmissions
of reassurance emissions
stick, echo in the seam
of a bone graft
sewn up
with the hair shaft
of a chimera,
a bodyguard threatening,
source of
auburn keratin
on loan
from Phobetor,
sadist of the Oneiroi,
student of the horn.

Morpheus fans
my heated face
with wings of ivory.
“Stay with me.”

Morpheus, red eye, teary through erebus,
choking on the flames
of a lava land.
hope springs eternal, though,
in his body deity.


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