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DRIED FRUIT
you fell asleep on the sun's table
and it picked away at you
with its rays, like the fork
of a guest with no appetite
when you awoke you had no eyes
with which to realize you were awake
you were alive in your burning dreams
drifting off into your blind fever
your eyes were once seeds
in a cluster of juicy grapes
but now you've wrinkled into raisins
leftovers for the sun to snack on
?
©Copyright 2004 Sheila Cook.