Another Hour.

I stroked her stomach and thought
of all the things I didn’t want to do that day.
She lay, stroked my fingers, and did the same.
We went back to sleep for another forever.

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Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise ( and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Cordite Poetry Review, Stardust Haiku, and GAS: Poetry, Art, and Music, among others.
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