Love

Did someone leave my door ajar?
Or there is no door but what I make
by asking?

Light has left me messages, as questions
such as these, and I have nibbled.

This morning rather I gobble.
I take my cue from my dog
who seizes moments.

This morning I have eaten all the bait.
Hook line and sinker.

Where there are no doors, cracks forever are.

Wherever there are slippings
and mighty shifts
love is.

 

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