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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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