Carrying today’s dead out
to the compost
I perceived your face
carefully among them
vines torn from the
trellis conversations
bitterly brown red
a child screaming in
the background so I
had to make a nest
for the bad oranges
for you to lie down in
at the top of the heap
I had to sit down
and talk with you
for a long time
before I could go
back into the house.
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