he, who smelled coffee sweet & cigarillo blue,
entered me, who knew better but _____________.
he, who in his wake left shredded tarot,
threw back his head & spewed light from every opening
& in me, light fell on a door, & in the door
a me i didn’t know & knew, the now me
whose blood blacks & curls back like paper
near an open flame. I walked towards the door
as I walked away from the door. when i met me
in the middle, nothing grand happened.
a rumor made its way around my body.
*Originally published in Pen America*