Michael Wasson-II
詩織 [Shiori]
For three years
I practiced your name
in my notebook
in black ink.
Your mother’s birthday
is in a week.
Will you two begin
to forget me?
In this life
you right now
ghost daughter
ghost love-of-my-life.
A boy from the rez
writing this poem
hoping for an end
to his suffering
for your shadow
your small breath
bright nothing
leaping skyward.
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