after the door slams

hall mirrors face themselves
full in the glass, expressionless
as whisky, with not a voice
to hoarse around ideas with, flashes
of flurried colors passed uncaptured
for future records to verify this

the frame rocks with no hand
to steady the swing. nailed
pendulums can’t fall and break
cyptic small hand of lead pencil
rubs the paint of the wall
in illegible proof of movement

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