forehead and put you
in a box. you were moved
to the back of closets, labeled
in thick, bleeding black pen. if someone
looked for you,
what would they find?
you died lost in memory behind racks of
clothing strung in a breezy, salted
closet. withered skeleton
you are,
your memory fled
onto a silhouetted hillside.
iii.
unfo lding salty laundry, i suddenly remembered youwith stars stitched into your sweater,
you were the universe. you were
absolute truth. your hands called me
beautiful once, in a bedroom with
two beds when downstairs a dog barked
and you breathed with me.
your voice, the thin brown lines of you;
you were brushstrokes
from the oldest paintings. still i hear you loving.
if only i were deaf and dumb,
a silhouette hidden
on a hillside.
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