Sleep - Meghan O'Rourke
In the bedroom the moon is a dented spoon, cold, getting colder, so hurry sleep, come creep into bed, let's get it over with; lay me down and close my eyes and tell me whip, tell me winnow tell me sweet tell me skittish tell me No tell me no such thing tell me straw into gold tell me crept into fire tell me lost all my money tell me hoarded, verboten, but promise tomorrow I will be profligate, stepping into the sun like a trophy.
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