clothed in white, she stands
slim & pale beside me
glints bright & flickering
walks with me, speaks
liltingly, words I can’t hear
sits pen in hand, upright
yet tilting, eyes on the world
outside her window — algaed
pond, seed-filled feeders
she doesn’t acknowledge
or deny me, I’m furniture
in her once furnished room
a stream of white letters
titles a silent sonata
a hand-painted clock
reports the hour, owl
at dusk, thrush at dawn
the book stack on the round
table may or may not be
set for me, I want them all
she nods, gestures, please
this is how she feeds me
why I wait & watch still
a fixture in her empty space
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