Dream Song 326

A Poem by Anon ymous

Still life hangs in the hallway: ashtray, chair, table, empty
bowl [in the name of the father and the son and the holy
ghost]. My un-opened letters bound by string, in a basket;

I remember her favorite dress; pale blue, [I used to hold
her hand] one button gone. I miss the smell of coffee,
the jangle of car keys, the quiet way her voice tightened

when she was nervous; [in the city we die fast, out here
it’s so slow]. My fitted shirt is wrinkled, we need rain;
first time in years the river has crested but not flooded.

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