Dust by Michael Meyerhofer
Remembered reading Meyerhofer before. He has a brilliant poem about death and ashes and urns (been meaning to post it but I keep forgetting). That one made me laugh because after Lolo died, that’s one of the things we discussed in the family: Lolo’s ashes, and where it will go, given the feud within my father’s family.
Anyway. I’m not really in the mood to think about that, so here’s another poem from him:
It seems we’ve left skin
in each other’s lungs. I should have
looked under your bed skirt
for my wallet, but how
could credit cards compare
to the sneeze after we’ve parted?
Gone and still you make me
reach for a tissue—still my palms
turn circles in the red
breakwater of your heartbeat.
I want to tell you, I have nothing
but respect for your ribcage
now that we both know
it’s not big enough to hold us.
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