I text her from her front door
when I finally get there,
half expecting her to grow her hair
and hang it down from her ivory tower
so I might climb up
it,
she merely ringing the buzzer instead,
letting me climb up
flight after flight
of stairs
until reach her light at the top,
the terrible door to
the roof
staring at me from beyond hers
like a haunting premonition
I do not yet known the meaning of,
having seen it only
in my dreams
and the dark photo she sent me
in the middle of night,
like a vision of
heaven she claims
she lives in or is
heaven for those
she invites to her arms,
the echo of my knock
on her door
reverberating and then responded to
by the sound of her approaching footsteps,
the snap of her unlocked door,
and then herself,
angelic.
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