What pours off from this?
not just rainwater
not just tears
a kind of honey
a kind of medium
a broth
in which to stew
for years
and years
in loss
(the bannister railing
still almost-felt
underhand)
(a different future
still almost-there
underfoot)
The house surrounds us
- how? -
as if it is still there.
echoing
with a called out name.
Ghost pains, you loved
the idea of it:
The soldier with the amputated arm
still able to feel
the delicate plucking of a weed
flower.
How acute that made his love.
Sensation for the mind
alone.
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