In the space between two chairs
then each night you crack open a shell
let it darken and begin from there 
–it’s already home to the silence
making room the way this rug was torn
for one more shadow and the floor
that mourns forever –each board
still lowered with some mountain
breaking up from the bit by bit it needs
to begin again –all these shells
just for their emptiness and slowly

to stir as in fingertips and magic.