It was yesterday
in the space
between a period
and the next sentence
of our day's chronicles.
Just
as surely as our cat
will rub her grayness against my ankles
when I sit in her room
its
simplicity loosened
the hasp of the past.
It had the sound of silver
the scent of swiftness
the feathered flutter of dove.
It
was a whisper from the Depths--
"What can you create?"
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