That Sanguine Hour

The riddling lights behind my eyes
perplex me. Each night in the black—
shut room of my head they come:
mouths and blue sockets surged
up from a day’s spent chasm
to taunt me to sleep. Whether
vapor or viper they leer, grimace
and jeer. In that sanguine hour,
when the body numb sheds
its cruel weight, when the body
numb drowns in the boxspring,
some buoyant other rises
to meet them, these bruises,
neckless in the wait for heaven,
who, with their long and coiled
tongues, drag me up
into their cold wet nethers,
and hold me, vexed
and new in the mouth of sleep.

Image: frankie cordoba on Unsplash

7 thoughts on “That Sanguine Hour

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  1. Deep, D. Sounds great read aloud. I hate that time of night.
    “when the body
    numb drowns in the boxspring,
    some buoyant other rises”
    A scene from the anime, “Spirited Away,” comes to mind, when the MC gets on a deserted train out in the middle of nowhere and rides it with a sad unseen shrouded figure out to the middle of nowhere.

    Liked by 1 person

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