My Wife Sleeps in Another RoomCorey Mesler
“And everything depends upon How near you sleep to me.” Leonard Cohen The house is a skull. The metaphor is unwelcome. The sheets are cold, like a drill, like a moon. The simile is unfriendly. We tire of similes and lie down among stones. In the morning, the coarse, grey morning, there is film over the window. The view is singular. It’s a film. There is love over the coffee maker. There is stillness in the office, peace in the den. The den is for hibernation. Where we live, The Hibernation. The metaphor is a skull. The flow is befuddled. Over breakfast it breaks off, like a road, like a goddamn civilization.
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