Doused

/ Arambler

A V of black
birds moves across
the sky, the bus
is late again. Her stomach
aches from testing
all those body mist
testers—one scent
is too much
for her. Any bird alone
must be lost
she thinks. When she wants
to hide, she goes
to sleep. Figments find her
face up ready
to receive an aroma
therapy of dreams.

4 thoughts on “Doused”

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