I move into a castle
once a factory
where alchemy
burned shells and limestone into dust.
Not gold but chalky
white. I always
wear shoes to keep my feet
from bruising.
I should tell you
the forest is not a forest
but glass shattering
each time I slam
a door. New windows
in place by morning.
Ivy climbs down walls,
empty towers with no
stairs but ringed with railings.
Wells with no water
but darkness.
I play the piano
every morning,
Debussy, Beethoven.
When the neighbors
come to visit I pretend
no one is home but
I’m sure they can hear
the sound of breathing.
The kiln fires so
hot I’ve lost all
sense of time.
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