“All of this!
In one
little girl’s bedroom.
Every moment, it’s infinitely complex.
They have access
to infinite time and space…
but they’re not bound
by anything!”

-Jonathan and Christopher Nolan

Father was in my closet, or standing in the door frame
I’d be sweating, blinking hard in terror,
waiting for him to move

but he won’t move until
you let him go

I hung on to
a perverse love
in dreams I would not touch
your extended hand, too disturbed by what it meant
but begging at your absence

perhaps that is why all
love must be kicked with spurs

into manifestations, into symbols,
nothing is swallowed back
nothing misses the one palette

as a pair of arches
one side real, the other stroked, and imagined
a tertiary buried, in the meeting point
of two divine, consequent lines

at this point: a cradle,
another made, another pair housed
in one black cell

only my eyes searing through darkness
the questions
must be asked it, fear nothing


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