Wessel Wessels

Dolphin Room






outside the dolphin room
a milky night sways lazily alert
pressing sleep upon her so
the wide bats may come to the dark fig tree
beside the window
inside the scented breath
hot sticky smell of fruit
falling heavily in the soft wet ground
she imagines a new civilisation
and misses someone long dead
a fleeting glimpse of a stranger while
wondering why everything goes by so quickly

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