after Frank Stanford

I dream I am asleep
inside a dream.

Jars of warm honey
and pollen

drift through the pollen
of the dream.

And bees are
humming above me.

On the shore, a yellow fox
warm with illness, paws

with its small yellow paws
at the water.

Wind moves along the corridor.

I am afraid
any moment
now

my own death
will enter my body.

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