Last night I swallowed froth
and its vulnerabilities within a populous coast.
I swallowed it like I was brought
forth from a deep agony.
And you were the host.
They say the sleep returns us to the senses,
I slept all the while fiddling with the pretenses
that I don’t see you; that I won’t see you.
I must have been a fool over the utterance of “who”
Last night I took a bow,
I must have been in love.
