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T R Poulson's avatar

Doing nothing makes me fall asleep, lol. And I have really prompt-worthy dreams sometimes. Still working with the prompt from yesterday (and my buddy's prompt) about things we love about our lives:

The Bear Gulch bull looks like Trust. Never trust

a bull and his testosterone—my fourteen-

year-old self knew this. My adult self forgets. I texted

you things (but not all things)

that champagne my blood like streams

of glitter. No, you text back. List people you love

enough to cry—

not things. I respond: How can I rank my family

members? Who among queen

bees could I name best friend?

I’d tell you dogs

are better—even when they shake ditchwater

on my blue cocktail dress—and horses,

definitely horses. Unconditional acceptance. Not silly love letters.

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Tresha Faye Haefner's avatar

Saturday Morning

After feeding the cats I slump back into bed.

The mattress is still warm from the night’s turning.

The sun is knocking on the window, asking for attention,

But I pull a spare pillowcase over my eyes.

With my closed eyes I reach for my husband’s hair, curling

its brown tendrils around the edge of his pillow.

It’s Saturday. I’ve done all

The writing for the week. Washed the dishes.

Like everyone in America we’ve worked so hard

To refill the bank account,

the cats’ water dish, the new bird feeder.

For now, nobody needs me, not even the cats

Who return from their kibble to jump back

Into bed with both of us, and curl up at our feet,

And started purring, like a reverse alarm clock

Lulling me back to sleep.

Everything they need is here.

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