Alive

I feel the ends of my fingers, the
skin wrapped tightly
prints stretched
across, ten small round
drums.

Feel small hairs across arms
laying simply, softly
on white linen, on
the edge of
tomorrow.

Watch slow sunlight filter
past pendulum curtains, flowing with
breeze, with
a sense of yesterday.

Feel the cool presence of
today’s shadow…fall
on sheets, on time, on
what else I have.

Hear the low pressure of my
heartbeat in ears
muffled by
pillow, arguing with
a ticking clock.

Have thoughts of madness, of
sorrow, of
happiness and joy and
think that it is
all and
I am
alive.

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