Hedgehog

In it, sleepers stitch their visions
of continents that once whispered
to each other of the water’s bickering.

As the land cracked and pricked
the cold fish that breathed in limbo,
things moved apart, shadows cast.

But one creature, sitting deftly in the bush
sometimes leaving its nose upon the grass,
summons picture after picture, jolly suckling.

It moves so the night is at peace,
negotiates timelines,
keeps stories in the curves of its belly.

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