The Architectress
The architectress carries
blueprints.
Only the slab is poured. The
walls
are transparent and rise
from everywhere
strictly according to
layout.
The architectress has spread
the blueprints
on the nonexistent
windowsill,
leafs through them for
mistakes,
then leans and looks through
a window
no less transparent.
The architectress
(technically)
doesn't exist.
Which makes the house good
enough
and practically finished.
Kristin Dimitrova, My Life in Squares (Middlesbrough: Smokestack Books, 2010), 28.
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