the room in moonlight.   a room.   like water is.

I remember place just slightly more than space.

        am I inside the room, or

        is the room all made of me?   these legs.

        these arms.   this head.   this chest.   my heart.

I’d say I remember.   the light.   the moon outside.
I remember the shadows.   I remember shapes.

what’s staying in place.   anyone moving here?

was that the cat, kinda three-quarters worth?
oh, floors that couldn’t be more amber bright.

have I been here before this night?   but no, not alone.

an easy nest to adore.   a door half of glass.
 
 

am I a stranger here?   I don’t want to be.

are these grooves beneath the furniture?

here a scratch.   was that me?

 
 
because these scratches, therefore I am.

 
 
 
 
image: tti    #