Forgotten altars

You blink and look and stare
and stare

As if trying to find the snag in the dream
the catch in the sweater
the cards hidden up someone's sleeves

The meaning of this miracle that tapped you on the elbow
in a coffee shop last week
bright with a smile and a "how are you doing?"

accusatory eyes searching, wanting to know

if you still kept the ashes
of a flame,

clung to the warmth
of a trail

listened for the thrum 
of a heartbeat

long cold.



YWP Alumni

More by amaryllis

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    from these pages of your cousin's pulped flesh,
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    You. master of graceful loss.

    You, vessels of wasted breaths,
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