Untitled by Sheri
Dawn comes in as a gray cat
moving down the parking lot
rising to any hand of time
creature escaped from darkness
drawn upon the whims of dead cars
and sleeping bodies
such a sight to see the first break
moving as if born there
slinking against the motion of air
pressed against like a copy machine
same day as yesterday
roaming into a place most secure
dawn is folded as a gray coated arm
holding in the heat of clouded sun
it makes the rounds to open eyes
and leaden head to a worship of ash
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