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This light, in this one place, drapes old years with new glow

Gathers together flaccid flesh, to cast in tight shadow

In it you will recognize my own youth

In a shape that left behind no remembrance.

Here, in this angle, in this light drape; it is yesterday again.

I must be still. This shade must grow root and ground

This stem like waist, the hair flip, the sinuous lines of my legs –

Until marginal etchings sweep smooth over pleated skin –

And memory’s motes melt in Erebus’s arms.

There held tight, all together, in entombed communion.

It stills. It waits. For you to take notice.

I tire and unconscious shift into the familiar hideous

The edifice splinters and detritus spills over

Floating back to sight; now as speckled incandescence

You don’t notice that either.

You are preoccupied with the other in the mirror

Oblivious to all that just passed by.

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Art Credit: Interior, Strandgade 30’ and ‘Encore et Toujours; Vilhelm Hammershoi

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