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Sally Bliumis-Dunn – I





Buildings were trees, ghosts

of trees, swaying like the last few

couples on a dance floor.



We watched the footage–

some dream where the simple homey

floor of a room



is suddenly silvered,

wind-blown lake, but still a room.



And we watched

with the helplessness of the waking, pale

walls of a bedroom slowly

coming into view.