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                                she was here before
                                we went for a walk
                                she was here when
                                we came back after
                                a coffee she stayed
                                upright bracelet
                                scraping across her
                                laptop as she was
                                writing or drawing
                                and then plwapp she
                                was done plug-ping
                                out the wall several
                                shuffles of organisation
                                I suppose before the
                                bauk-bakk-bok of
                                high-heel boots that
                                had been cross-legged
                                poised patiently for
                                hours – carpet




carpet wormhole: sunny morning
coffee wormhole: Jean Miller kissed Salinger
library wormhole: ‘like a piece of ice on a hot stove / the poem must ride on its own melting’
sitting wormhole: thinking wide enough
sound wormhole: the long road
time & walking wormhole: the utter beauty of giving when receiving
writing wormhole: scattered