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