Her Voices, My Voice

The things I feel remain still unexpressed
As if expression never found a way
To guide me through the strangeness of that day
On which I found her searching, sharply dressed,
For where I kept the passports. I confessed
That I had locked them recently away
Because . . . I stopped, unsure of what to say,
And felt a sudden sinking in my chest.

Don’t frighten her, just play along. Now go
Put on your pinstriped suit. Now go and get
The passports from the safe. Be calm because
She’s standing at the edge. Don’t cry. You know
That sudden shifts of mind will just upset
Her slant reality. Don’t stop. Just pause . . .

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