was to open an eye
at blanket level
and see something
in the corn rows of fabric
stretched ahead of me
then watch my
groggy mind
run off to find it
among the tassels
and ripening ears
somewhere out there
crouched and quiet
I knew
a shy poem lurked
hiding from capture
and that I only had
till my fog lifts
before it would
disappear
down a rabbit hole
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