Time Already Told

I say I miss you– I do– at what point does it become
redundant? I slept in your bed then it was
illusion, like the night, sun shifting angles into morning

delusion. I fear this will morph, too, this distance,
and render us unrecognizable, our living
in new homes, new moths to sort

from boxes. I am trying to locate the words
that conjured the blue magic that brought us
there, the honey we shared playing Jenga

on patios, wooden towers built only to collapse
under false expectations of longevity.

 

(originally published in Kingdoms in the Wild, Spring 2019)

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