T’Alçae ElFaken and Rochele VenduLac

She watches as a door opens
the door on the far side of the room
(how did she get here?)
the room of eleven doors
the dodecahedronal room

She is standing on the only wall without a door

The man walks through the open door
above and to her left
By some trick or illusion
when he stepped out
he rotated so that the door was on his floor
and now there were five doors that he could reach

He doesn’t look up (up?)
as he walks to the ivory door

He fishes something out of his pocket
(a key, maybe)

Holding the object in his left hand
he strikes a point somewhere near the center of the door
There is a gush sound as it opens
and the light that falls on the floor
is golden and honey hued

The man walks through into the light
And the door gently closes

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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