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My Morning is Your Night

in this configuration, I soften
you begin falling

what felt immoveable has taken time
in, turned malleable

your room is plain
panels, blankness abides
and is broken open

my ceiling is not mine
but it’s becoming familiar 

I reach to my own image
searching for a doorway

your face waits behind mine
coy, making me insist
on my invitation

you stand at the threshold
flickering, moth-like

I lay your viewpoint down
show gravity where to touch me

 I reach across a line of infinite extension
while you stare parallel
to the plane of this moment

I stretch word to word
tremble at the loom

 you are receding now
the moment narrows

from somewhere
between us
an unexpected music