since world appears
as light
through drapes
and other thresholds
mirror-quickened
they pour it all into a dish
like milk
and unawares
the door ajar
a clean-cut
sensibility slips in

since doors and windows
hinge in logic
back-latched
and secure
they build a house
of playful aberration
they write in pencil
pass between them
cards and paper

since half-lives dissipate
and deeper cuts
accrue
the tell-tale body
bearing its abstraction
they work in octaves
interchanging keys
a solo for two hands

since elsewhere
twist and fall
dark-blistered leaves
they find themselves
a table by the window
the field outside
in raptured
slip-codes

since it is turned and open