I WOULD SAY
I wake up still
thinking you are alive—
my body gets used to that fog
as if you, as if the dead are nothing more
than bones to the body. That pain is deep—
I will go deeper.
I stayed awake for months after you—
waiting
for your call
come back—people like you don’t just disappear.
I would’ve waited forever
in the solstice cold, up
in the air, mountainside of disbelief if only to hear you say
my name.
Before you, I could not understand pain
but I know it now and it sounds supernatural,
like beams of light
smashed across the small of my back. Sleep and never
sleep again
where did you find yourself when you finally woke?
Did it hurt—?
I mean is death anything like living?
Does it remind you of home?
I hope where you are is vast, real,
impossible—
a better oblivion,
more sky—
I hope where you are is nothing
like home.
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