Flit | By Jessica Molina​

Rumbling

low

like

a wave

or

an earthquake

I feel

you

come

into

 my mind.

You

 enter

like

a red door.

A

long

wisp of smoke.

I let

you

wash

over me

As I try not to

Drown

Or fumble

Or burn.

I want to

knock

On that door.

But

I don’t.

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