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half a lemon dipped in salt

I can close my eyes and sit in a cupboard
ask some strange cook what they expect me to eat
and know exactly where I can find you at four o'clock
with half a lemon dipped in salt

what I find is impossible
from up so high on my ladder
so I wait
so I watch
I listen
a dried flower is just as lovely as a fresh one

how come you can wear shirts with buttons?
when the apocalypse is imminent
I scrub the cracks between the tiles
mop the floor
as the ice melts
I ask myself
does she have the same kind of dreams?

the poet whispers
and the bell rings
so you just walk home
passed fields of potatoes
silent and empty under clear blue sky

the fish are something to make me settle in one place
and they need to be fed everyday
I often wonder if they do anything when I'm not watching
everybody looks at me

then out of the sky comes the biggest miracle
maybe it's just my imagination
but I remember feeling safe
feeling valued
the poet says

the breakfast dishes are not washing themselves
the garden needs to be repainted
outside the sun was making shapes out of total darkness
bright orange flashes against the black
little green signs shine
and in each dream I look for another detail
that much of what I know is true

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