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number fifteen

A green caterpillar, stripy, with soft padded sticky feet.
It twirls and caresses the finger, then drops thirty storeys.
A shattered shard of mirror, six inches from point to base.
Tempted am I to challenge its edge.
A fish net, made of basket-woven reeds, with a long greasy handle.
It holds water too long. Stupid. Where is fish?
(a slimy smile, coin-eyed, with tendrils, hovers just below the ripples)
A tiny tiny nematode, directionless, inchworming under my microscoptic eyes.
How many have I, down, down in the warm bottom of the bowel?
Children of the tape worm.

All of these have come to me
in the wild eyed apprehension of semiconscious sleep.
The sweetest of dreams to thee.

 

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

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