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a small room, illuminated

by candles and showers


sparks and other radiances

a body as wet as newborn


or washed by the waters of life

clothed in perfect white


pure, clean

absolutely insular joy


this room has a single window

thoughts streaming in

as history flows out


my body has a single heart

sadness streaming in

as desire flows out


a small room, door sealed behind me

you, still too far away


a spotless canvas in my imagination

a smooth, infinite surface, patiently waiting


Susan Smith Nash

October 17, 2001