epitaph
unable to turn the page the
light in the room
like salt on the wound of looking and
seeing
the heart beating a phone ringing
unanswered
the line will go dead leave a message soon
there is no grave no weathered stone
where what was unreadable becomes
illegible
where time where absence is recorded
there was fire smoke drifting flesh and bone
cursive
written by the wind ashes on the
tongue
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