A Poem About Keeping People Close and Almost Succeeding


I’m keeping lists of the people I love

in the margins of my calendar.

These are the ones who

fill in my own patchy voids.

Their names snuggle on the backs of reciepts

and tuck into the pages of books I will give away.

Syllables marked in pen on the inside of my wrist.

Ink stays longer there, more visible

than anywhere else on the body.

Trapped in neat loops and lines

my people are simple, delicate, cursory

and easy to save. 


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