When her sister moved across the border

there was no border, not even a line

like the one they’d drawn in chalk

down the centre of their bedroom,

dividing walls and window, the light

parsed out between them

like a parent’s love. Only the door,

its point of entry and exit, was shared.

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Marjorie Lotfi Gill, Cura Mag

Tagged: checkpoint poem, contemporary poetry, Marjorie Lotfi Gill, poem, poetry, witness, witness poetry