We were spending the morning together
laughing and working on each other
spines and organs and
cranial bones and stagnation
and we were talking, as we do
about today and yesterday
as the summer's sun lit the
burgundy blossoms of sheer curtains
and the sounds of life being lived
slipped in beneath the double doors
whose surface was composed
of so many small reflective segments
of glass- so that each one was a
different color and portrayed a
different version and refrain and it's
own individual refraction
and I gazed up at the photographs
lining the room like a prayer, a blessing
all the while an overcast sky
carefully murmured all the old songs
that I could catch if I cocked my head
and quieted my mind
and in this way we
continued on
year passing year
in our knowing
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