disclaimer: the following scenes are fictional. the stories, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this work are fictitious. no identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
SCENE: far from a home, i begin in its stomach. awake now, i move among the bounds of the hollow room and turn to ease the door closed. there is no door. after a moment stumbles in confusion, i turn about again, facing an aperture that seems to have grown on me more than before. there have been no walls. there is no floor. how then, you ask, am i standing? i do not stand; i, simply, am not. the aperture eyes me intensely; we see each other as reflections of ourselves.
ah, now you understand.
i am the door.
YOU ARE READING
LOCUS AMOENUS
Poetrywhere wanderlust and a well-travelled writer dance to the ever-fickle tune of vicarious words
