Tuesday, April 20


I can feel it now

the paper cutout of your pain
lays down over my body
like a sheet settling over a well made bed
stabs of incomprehension, aches of recognition

your hands made my cup of herbal tea
your crown prickles at the dark corners
your eyes look at me from the mirror
green, blue, yellow, cloudy

I can see your white temples

while I was playing Bach at your viewing
thank god I was only me
my heart reached over my breast bone
and my lips
kissed your cold forehead
warm fingers massaged your praise

I know you miss me
but you know where I am

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