Seven meteors fell across my face in the last five days I
saw you.
Our telomeres shortened as we waited, malnourished, the
feeling of separation, of chromosomes fraying, getting sticky.
Exiting, you sublimated unready (I
wouldn't admit & no point to recognize), collected
wouldn't admit & no point to recognize), collected
in thick the thick fog that would have been outright
cinematic
to anyone not in shock.
The mirrors in German Shepherd eyes,
our quiet words. I am
positive I told you how much I love fog.
No, you were the fog//
No, you were the fog//
How you’d love us walking in it,
the flora around us & churning in our guts,
our dogs, slack-leashed;
unsure what to say but being.
our dogs, slack-leashed;
unsure what to say but being.
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