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Words seeping out –

blood through a bandage, resin trickling from wood.

On Occasions

It wasn’t that the room was filled with light (the session over and the group dispersed),

but that the air in that harsh place was stippled, as in a Seurat painting,

the dance of the molecules visible around the awkward chair and table legs.

And we separated, slippery as mercury. There was movement, movement in us.

Alvi