When we look jointly
we see a mirror lens to invert his vision,
the impression of presence,
the passage of time.
At moments within these dark corridors,
moments of rupture,
it meanders, the decisive moment,
like a pair of restless, insomniac twins.
They can no longer be sure
the length of time in which it is possible
two apparently twinned entrances.
Dreams are a short-cut
with holes for children to climb in an out of
while others look on.
It’s a bit like I’m using other people’s kids,
more than 600 billion offspring,
Morlette Lindsay & David Marshall (editors)