La Petite Mort

Can you hear the knocking in the wall?

It's hard to find behind the mirror
Gone every step in the hoary room,
Lined with marks and yellow tulips.
Holes and toys, we hear her.
I can find it in the hushed tomb,
When the sweltering heat rose through
And covers the flowers, crispy curly leaves,
Loud breathing blows, grows in limbo,
Trickles in cracks, the knock in the wall breathes.

Can you hear the knock near the door?
Higher than the wall, around the crack,
The blossoms that sit under the bed grow,
White buds drop fruit to the floor
Left so long they turn dry and black.
I can hear it through the ash and snow,
And the heat settles below and beyond
Too many knots sweet with honey,
The subtle breaking in the walls gone—

Can you hear a knock on the balcony?
My swollen eyes search to see,
Finally at the end, the knock takes me. 

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