the first line of a poem is a window,
to let the light in
across the sill
through each imperfect pane
swirls in the glass
amend perception
to look in
alters the view
the next line of a poem enters further
into a room, many rooms
where light falls diffuse;
to pass down a corridor and touch patchwork, or
thread edges of fabrics
of lived in textures
and in so touching
alters the view
the third line of a poem makes a home
for the heart
to take up residence,
to visit where spaces and shapes partly familiar,
alive at the peripheral,
perpetually shift
and most importantly,
alter the view.
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