Behind your ear,
the place where no one ever looks,
where the skin is
more intimate than one’s private parts,
I found a lock
submerged in your skull.

I am a Key Maker,
you know.

All my entire life
I labour away inside
|a room|
without any doors or windows
where the only thing
you can see is the sun
shining on bare walls.

It is by this that
I procure keys.

When I put the key into your flesh
and twisting it
opened your body
I saw a shadow
ascending from the key hole
like the bulky figure of a giant.

With my foot
I then stomped on the ground
and understanding rippled
through the cobblestones
like rumour.

I breathed into the shadow
and it disappeared,
dissipated into thin air,
those lazy curls of black smoke.


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