Somewhere in the drips of window glass, between the brick that hems in sashes to contain the views of seasons’ thickly grown, somewhere in the wounds of broken mirrors fixed to plaster walls and in the hardened roots of withered grass inclined to suffer drought for just a hint of rain to sip from clouds before they go, somewhere in the cracks that breach and widen through these concrete steps inventing veins and passages too subtle to percieve and under eves and awnings where the shadows yawn and masquerade as dusk inviting ghosts and apparitions in before it’s night, sometimes in the age of places plainly seen there speak the voices stayed by whisper-skeins of dust that over time have etched in crosshatch scars and carved in bas-relief the names and faces lapsed in cuts of glass unmasking views of afterthoughts from rooms I’ve long ignored.

#Melbourne #Australia

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