~ for Jenny and Karen

You know the beginning of certain
dreams by the signals they send—

Chime ringing behind one door
at the end of a long hallway, clocks

unpinning themselves from the wall;
beautiful staircases in love with nothing

but themselves, going in perpetual
spirals. There might have been days

that felt like half a wishbone buried
in a book. There might have been

rooms in which some closets were locked,
but also others where light was sufficient

furniture. Think of that space where
the sound of your name, spoken aloud,

was enough. Tell me, how is the taste
of hunger also the shape of the only cup

from which you would want to drink?
Sometimes what the heart longs for

has really always been there– A circle
of stones shielding the fire from wind.

A row of pots on the balcony, cats
nosing among the sage and mint.

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