scooping dust into under nails
watching rainbows on depression glass
full of cherry blossoms, cherries, waiting for tea
i sang your name from my sternum
and the glass quivered; the dust smelled like home
picked up a shaving mug, said “think of me” –
- and I did - and was covered in poppies
you know how I feel, right?
well, how could you?
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