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In this dark and lonely room
I'm trying to be myself
with you up on the shelf
and my head up in arms.
Your head swarms
with vestige of a lover's disavowal.
Flip on the switch.
The light blazes on four walls
of maps and spiders
and cracks leading to your room.
Hands numbly grasp the armchair in despair.
Clenched teeth and the taste
of metal in my mouth.
And there in the doorway
your tall, lanky frame
Fixed and frozen in time.
But you will never be mine.

Tangled
Poetry
1996