by Jason Grant The entire king-sized bed is mine now, but I can’t seem to move from the left side to the right because on the nights you were here—laying there—if I dared move from my side to yours in the middle of the night it was like I-was-crossing-some-boundary you-needed…
Because Sleep By A.J. Huffman lingers in corners of eyes, too easily lost in a blink or breath of ceiling fan. I hold mine, force muscles to feign memories of frozen simulation, make a wish, and wait for it or me to fall. ————————————————————————— Dialogue of Potential Poetics I had…