I cage you
When you are free, you break yourself on windows
I lock the door
Weeks go by
I live stepping one way, then another
In my hand, a peach
the cleft pressed to my lip
sweet floral dust
Where are you now?
I am wondering.
Where is that silken grain
which my fingers pushed
and how come your body
weighed no more than a moth
and got no more than a shallow grave
wrapped in paper?
I smell you in his wet hair
dust and lime
I want to dig up your grave
and die in it
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