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NARCOLEPSY

It is a familiar tackle,
the way sleep pins you without warning
like a wave to the sand

before a lightning storm erupts in the body,
those drowsy jolts of dreaming
tangling night and day, dragging anchor

until you wake, clothes soaked with fever,
your face shining.

NARCOLEPSY

It is a familiar tackle,
the way sleep pins you without warning
like a wave to the sand

before a lightning storm erupts in the body,
those drowsy jolts of dreaming
tangling night and day, dragging anchor

until you wake, clothes soaked with fever,
your face shining.

Melanie Masson  39, Seattle

 
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