Some Thing of Love


I have lost my family, they—

But one only loses one

Or two, before one—

No. All and none.


The traces of their faces are on my fingertips.


Not a question of where nor when. “How did they go?”

I “let” them, they’d say and so

Would I? We . . . ?

Don’t say the same “family,”


One of us is not real.


I thump and I clot, but they keep being

What I am not they would have me so

Say “family” as if I’d know.

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