Clones don’t sleep

By | 1 May 2019

i had a bad dream my clone says what was it you say
– Oscar Schwartz, “what side of the bed does your clone sleep on?”

My clone is acting strangely.
My clone is breathing fast.
How do we know – she says
walking into glass.

My clone thinks we are pregnant
given my tender breasts,
she says we dreamt of anemones
but I don’t remember it.

Convenience stores only stock
tests with teethy women
smiling widely on the box.

You know – my clone says
an oasis faded
is a desert found.

I hear her voice folded
through sheets dipped in waves,
hidden water falling out.

My clone will not panic.
My clone is always calm.
My clone cannot get pregnant.
How do I know – she says.

My clone remembers star jasmine
arched up against our windows,
as it swallowed our fence
and breathed all night against glass.

My clone remembers the coolness of the dive
into my grandfather’s pool.
My clone would never
buy a German car.

At a certain point my clone
will lie with my head against her chest.

She will bite her bleeding lip
and I’ll taste none of it.

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