skonen_blades

You left me a message once
Your voice trapped in my phone
A moth in a jar softly hitting the edges
Telling me about a poem you thought I’d like
Reciting it
And you were right

Later you became a poem yourself
Leaving beautiful evidence of yourself behind
A finite wake of archaeological shards
Video clips and photographs
And a couple of books

I found a poem the other day that I thought you’d like
And I left you a message
By reciting it softly to the air
A moth free to find its way
To wherever your light is now



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