(light)

Late afternoon
I want to call
someone and say,
“What is it?”
But who would I call
and why would I
be saying it?
Something
about the light
which slips in an instant
from the day.
Something about
shifting,
the way I said
in my therapist’s
office a decade ago,
as I crossed
the room
to the chair
where I sat,
“Something is different,”
meaning
not the furniture
but the landscape
within
that changed
in a mercurial moment
without reason
or name.

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