Scissoring (after Wayne Hogan)

What of the quaint indoor arrangement 
might be clipped away by prey 
who collude to subtract the elements
we've acquired as reminders to live within 
bounds? It is possible to fail others' 
interpretations or need to snip away
those habitual daylight forces 
on us and others viewed through a window
that reveals an admittedly partial 
show of what is what and where it is kept.
How much of us do we reveal to others 
bringing different, even distracting, 
forgeries to bestow on our lives as 
we insist on them our ritual logic?

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