Thursday, April 11, 2019

DIRGE

Forgetful as I am
in the space between 

movements 
I've had time

to memorialize 
the post-its 

the photos
the fish tacos

the Dr. 
Mario—all of it.

Forgetful 
as I am—and spent 

every day I wake 
I recommit 

I repurchase 
what was known

by knowing it again
alone.

I say it in my own 
voice now (since 

this is still how 
I listen best):

everything we were 
or weren't 

was melody 
or rhythm.

Anything we did 
or didn't—

different fingerings
for a chord.

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