Last night
I found a tiny deer
In my dreams
Quiet and tender
As a weak kitten
Small and tan coloured
We went to live
In a house full of
Old furniture
And peeling, patterned velour walls
Bureaus and tarnished mirrors
Nailed to the ceiling
Settling in a small room
With high walls
Covered from the floor up
In bookcases and old paper
Thousands upon thousands
Of dusty books remain
And will remain
As we do;
Moth cocoons
Quiet and content,
And even after we are
Gone
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