we come back to morning
to the bodies we left behind
their woodenness and blood
and these leaves like memories
forming at the corners of our mouths
and with some comic muddled story
as if the tape had been
intentionally scrambled
of the heart-shaping events
we witnessed and underwent
on the other side of the night
from which only a few crumbs
are salvageable and a strange feeling
of having been chastened and rent
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