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I made her tell me of the affair, every detail,
and I became him, the man who pulled her into the closet,
opening the many rooms of her mouth, knobs spinning,
and then I was her, pulling him by the tongue
through the river of rooms in the mansion of my mouth,
his eyes pressing into me, his eye seeing all,
and then I was the closet, the space they traveled through
on their way to the mansion, and then the real I entered the closet,
the wind of doors slamming, bodies rushing, gone-
my eye lost in the mouth of my pocket, or is it my hand,
my dirty, awful hand.
Jeffrey McDaniel
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