Issue 223, Winter 2017
May you sleep the most famous sleep: the night kind, one-third-of-your-whole-life-like, and if you panic in the peace, you are not dying. Breathing but not doing is not dying.
This kind of sleep is an egg: broken, mixed in, eaten, membrane shredded and forgotten like the torn-up dreams that let you go.
The fern that parted to let you through, the curtains, the legs, the heavy evening sex that let you sleep in the first place.