hiding near the floor
waiting at the door
shows up so clearly
but i can tell you
i nearly fall off the edge.
i bring it on
sometimes, guiding
my eyes to the tree trunk
at the back,
resting all my thoughts
on this glass book.
what will i say?
ill be there
at the juncture of how
and when but
i can breathe for me
and then ill see.
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