A camera occasionally caught us sealed within
album leaf’s
ten years, twenty years later;
folios still fastened to a distant past.
I don’t miss you, and this is not a love letter.
Too many cuts with thin edged blades;
invisible lacerations
that nonetheless bled into words,
and those words hemorrhaged.
Last night, in the backyard, a mouse died,
but before it did,
it called out to...
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