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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