| I live in my southern window, dragging robes of pollen up and down the stairs behind the glass, breaking flowers into round rings, setting purple children back in rafters. While I sleep, I dream of waking. |  |
| I live in my southern window, dragging robes of pollen up and down the stairs behind the glass, breaking flowers into round rings, setting purple children back in rafters. While I sleep, I dream of waking. | |