By the Light, I Make My Way

By the light of darkness, I move
across meadow sponges

to a realm of not yet, as he has
died, and I am left beneath a tree

saying, You are missed. I miss
you. We all miss you. You will be
missed. People notice you are
missing. The hardware misses
you. The mailman 
doesn’t yet
miss you.

 

 

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