what's the light, that subliminal breath
being two things at once
what's being, the door ajar
waiting for nothing
when no one arrives
and un-opens the un-opened
opining: sometimes a phone
is not a phone
sometimes
a fire is not a fire
sometimes there is a woman
in the mirror
she, on the other other side
reaching through
dust of drywall in her fingers
You have no idea.
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