Mesmerize

There’s no shortage here
of magicians and secrets,

late August and a lone bird
-song you can’t identify,

your dreams of colder air
and a different house, red

light a lone eye blinking
and signifying nothing.

Your life is a lone sentence
encrypted, a locked room

like all the others. Above
the forehead of the door

a blue flame and words
in the smoke: solve me

tenderly, hanging breath
with no clear punctuation