• Vol. 02
  • Chapter 12
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I was seen by the wind chime

(inspired by Laura M. Kaminski's 'Personal Space')

well within the hour of a dusted
line of slates, I had the painting
especially matched to the gild
glint of grates on the frame rims
only because, all this trouble, for he
sent word on a sparrow's wings
of his visit tonight; the lights had to
be perfected dim, a bright as high
as the far away glow that falls off
of the moon's wall onto the shades
on my ceiling; and it had to match
the frame - all else just an optical
allusion - to the way his eyes would
see and tell, approve, appropriate,
appraise. Let the door bell herald
his larger than life steps, let him see
of the way I stayed unchanged, meet
here, all I ask is for you not to pull
your rank on me, stay over a while -
the (complete) night, go blind
and let just the chime bear eyes.