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How It Is

How It Is

if you

roam around

a w h i l e

and peek in rooms

not yours

you might glimpse

a love that lives

in private quarters

unphotographed

and frameless

against the prying eye

the pickpocket

true of any love

if that’s what

you would call it

and maybe why

you’ll never read

a word about it

or watch it play

across the screen

you might pretend

to know

how it is

and think

you’ve held it

once or twice

but unless

you’re standing

in the room

to feel it

how would you

know it

how could you

know it

how it is

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery