Huron Sheets Clinic Shoeless they show off star clusters – immaculate worlds before bed. In the crack of hall light, picture King Street draped – a smear of skyscraper, diesel iridescent. Flush under covers, swimming desert syllables. Persisting, quiet. Denudation – the dunes erode by elevation ‘til we’re nothing but chapped thighs. Sand in the thread-count, imagine King Street nude – a pink-nailed receptionist, seagull fluorescent. Some temple re-modeled in downtown Yellowknife, patient on a hunch. In blankets they snap contraband, listen – scattered downstream, little coastline prisms. Is it breaking curfew to sweep up our knives, squint and devise a reflection? Sleepless we sober in the breath of a rose colony.
© Ryan Pratt