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She keeps coming through doors
by Wanda Schubmehl

when I least expect it (I always
expect it) she keeps walking
through walls as if they were
air she keeps expecting me to say
something casual like oh there you are
but the colors of the air around her
change from moment to moment
and she's walking through doors
that are only in my mind and
she can't think I don't notice
that she is walking toward me
happy in textures and deciding
whether to smile

She keeps opening doors I don't
know are there and comes through
expecting a bronze and gold
welcome she keeps walking right
through the walls I cemented
(I always expected the lathing
to fall) I'm frozen in place every time
she comes toward me untouchable
who does that just walking through walls
it just isn't natural what if I
open a door and come through it
my feet deciding to move toward purple
or blue

She's opening doors and moving
through walls (I don't expect
anything) smiling and not smiling
spilling purple and bronze as she
slips off self-loathing and tries on
serenity tries it on for size and for
how it will feel to pass over
the lintel wearing new clothes
I have trouble believing her
it's unusual to meet like this in a
doorway she keeps finding doorways
as if I'm a wall she expects to
walk through


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