nothing happened, except that I was saved
aching fever, flat on my blanket the night hurls distant railway tracks and sweaty squalls of cabbage corpses from south-east into the black black chamber. in my fever dream, the corpse sucks me south-south-east into the landfill into her dark entrails, into her blackest fluids fever ache. the potent stench of rot in the bedroom but deeper into the night your compact body against my back the room smells of linen, Orion enframed in the window you smile in the glowing dark and touch me where I need it the most