Deja Vu, Deja Vecu

I’ve stood between two dimensions,
hearing with my eyes, seeing with my ears.
I’ve woken in the house no one else sees,
smell that brings me back
often the silken weavework leaves hold
for time if it appears as spider.

Yesterday, as I was about to cross
to the mirror image holding my returns
to the clinic, my rubber shoes pulled
my wonder. I gazed at blue
like two kidneys facing each other.

My self four decades ago
turned out to be the doctor
I never was. We shared stories
through telepathy, never giving
one word its image in sound.
I opened my heart like the house,
inviting my younger self
to come in.