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IF YOU MUST THINK HER
I will advise you how.
Trace her bed sheets
with your night leg
in darkness of sleep
in twilight of memory.
Neatly open the menu
while folding her hand
then swim her flawless smile.
Ready yourself for bed
while listening to her
wonderful new philosophies.
Stroke her pharmaceutical hair
into the winds of New England
ignoring the sadness of subways.
Remember cryptocrystalline forms
with your hands and
the atmosphere of her last kiss.
Then take one more drink
moving closer to memory’s pollen
canoodled and scattered about
her unpressed, ancient petals.
--Published in the Homestead Review
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