Tom Beckett

Notes Between Notes

Touching myself
I touch
Someone else


Looking in
That fucking
Mirror I

Can’t remember
When I
Saw you last


The strangeness
In the mirror

Is what
One fears most


The seam

Between what
Is seen
And felt

Reams me

It’s unseemly


               The threshold of sense
                                                            One step


You say

I’m full
Of myself

Not true

We’re full
Of others

You keep
Repeating myself


All of us
Possessed & porous

Pointlessly sutured
Against the wet


In the end
It is how
Speech balloons
Deflate as
Avatars squeak


I hear
Fret buzz
In that
Last stanza


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