Memior, Poetry

June 27

Specters follow behind
who seek to prove we are villains.
And while he is gone
I contemplate many things.

But mostly the specters
because each face favors a different feature:
friends before they were lovers
father before his drowning
and mother before she drew back her raft.

From sisters
who like me, slither between spaces
with electric eyes and shorted circuits
so similar we spark rebellion against one another

And sometimes
we prefer an empty road
broad in the horizon before us
and guiltless because no one follows
to remember who we left behind.


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