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Duende

The words fall into each other rolling over and over
smooth, steady ball bouncing between them
the room drenched in an amber light
as their breathing…their breathing keeps moving
moving in a rhythm — soothing the weight of the hour
and their eyes, their eyes locked onto each other whilst
dismissing the assembled papers on the table
the papers masquerading as real information.

Neither one of them notices the fly –
big buzzing house fly that’s broken through
the hermetic seal of the company;
it careens from window to ceiling to wall unable to land…
but they never see it—so intent in their words, words buzzing
buzzing back and forth intensity and unity with the fly
for they are strangers, too but their words, their words keep falling
landing into each other rolling over and over into the amber light.

Nothing will be left unsaid…there is no perch for confusion
no berth for resting; no corner for escaping the words
all the words are being said – and heard
…heard over and over as each provides a bench for the other.
They are stepping from moss to wet rock without slipping,
they are building a bridge to the table cleared and set anew.
They have maintained reverence for the past, shed truth on the present,
and staged the future for change: coveted vermillion gate.

This was not the usual performance review.