Elegy
for words.
Leapfrogs after
rain,
tension in their
springy legs
make me
remember, but
it’s not the
same.
Summer is a
sweaty time.
My face forgets
to second guess
its
closeness. I want to speak
crime into you.
I want to run.
The last time
was different.
I believe in
resurrection.
In
reincarnation, they are redwood bark,
alive to feel
the smear of my ashes,
the knife cut of
his name.
He crafts the sound
of my sighs
without scissors
and glue.
It’s the
elegance
of silence, this
black crepe dress,
my head bowed at
the headstone.
We look up.
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