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You bark as if a knock
means everything --you will die
answering this door, trusting its sound
its worn out, not used anymore --your jaws 

already far off, so sure the sun
just by licking this paint
would be restored, every board
a tree full bloom, at once
half leaves, half fur

half how could a door 
uncover such a sky, a light
weathered by the long winters
the waiting, so sure I'll let in

your neck swept back
by an ancient hill
making the rounds, filling your bark
with not enough time
and holes are everywhere the same.

You bark all you want.
Dig into the air --this door
stays closed, behind it
such a steepness asking for papers.

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