For Marina, who lives inside my skin as trapped, urgent light
..and then as the night approaches, the deep night, my body begins to dwindle and soften, more toward those
points when words splinter like fragments inside my skin...On these such mornings, on these such days, the world but a small, clean jewel through which reflection bespeaks your name: Roo
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Словно живые подступают тени,
В висках как будто колокол звучит,
В зеркальной глади движутся видения.