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First Person Omniscient

I made her tell me of the affair,
every detail,

and I became him, the man who pulled
her into the closet,

opening the many rooms of her mouth,
knobs spinning,

and then I was her, pulling him
by the tongue

through the river of rooms in the mansion
of my mouth,

his eyes pressing into me, his eye
seeing all,

and then I was the closet, the space
they traveled through

on their way to the mansion, and then the real
I entered the closet,

the wind of doors slamming, bodies
rushing, gone-

my eye lost in the mouth of my pocket,
or is it my hand,

my dirty, awful hand.

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