Your place is inside someone.
the closing of their heart
a landscape scaled to story
what if you knew everything
About why my sister looks like
my sister, the slap of silence;
the beating that is the phone ringing
The lament of memory in all
the half-remembered childhoods
what if those habits are only errands
dead from scorn; like butter asking
to be left out, sleepy in the sunlight
_
the closing of their heart
a landscape scaled to story
what if you knew everything
About why my sister looks like
my sister, the slap of silence;
the beating that is the phone ringing
The lament of memory in all
the half-remembered childhoods
what if those habits are only errands
dead from scorn; like butter asking
to be left out, sleepy in the sunlight
_
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