Elaine Randell
Poem one
And so the edges of the photographs seem lighter
easier to thread together somehow
the strands of coming
and going and attach
ments meant to be forever, promised and yet
divided by death and war and mis
hap or
Miss or Mr
or another reassignment and realignment.
I can see your face
and yet
you are paper thin
smiling
known
with certainty of life and loved.
I touch your bones. You are
always there on the surface of the skin
easy dealt with yet
not so easily dead.
Page(s) 44
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