I am half an hour arrived.
Still to unpack.
Tempted instead
to sit for a while
here by the bed,
preferring, if possible,
the moment to
remain uncreased.
An hour now and
nothing is claimed.
No surface taken,
the room as it was
before the last guest.
Who could have
been anyone. Who
could have been me.
I could be anyone.
The walls grow dim,
and still I have not
claimed myself, taken
possession, unwilling
to disturb an infinite
possibility, believing,
if I breathe quietly,
that time will not awake.
Audio version of Hotel del Duomo
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