the Sandias 02/06/10

I found your letters-

abruptly, I am no wiser than a child
and rely on you to remind me.
I gently relive your words,
staunchly subsisting on your recounting of a past I can’t clearly recall

your indelible whispers retell the transition out of hell
and I realize now,
that despite being composed of bones,
my life has been deliberately fictitious.

you narrate the requiem to a stolen childhood-
an elegy written to a child left quixotic and shallow,
a boy left stubbed by his own corporeal appendages-
retreated into obscurity.

you unbind me-
your cursive lifts from college ruled notebook paper and sets me ablaze
this reverie of you kindly separating
skin from the parts of me that are unending

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