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Kate Gale

Cactus Dreams

I do not know what makes cacti

Rise in the desert,

Their insides wet, like my dreams

Coming from nowhere.


I rise from the floor of oceans

Damp, curved as the neck of a sea horse.

Irises fall from my hair.

My skirt splits to the waist.


I am not a cactus,

Not a sweet nothing on your pillow.

I am light curtains blowing

Across your face tonight.

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