Saudade
remorse or fossil
neither ||
we imagine a wing
or a calendar
of each a crown
the paired intricacies of fins
grief already
counting the rings
trees like
depth of field
in a Chinese painting
a stone
affords infinity ||
in the measure’s gap
a horde of hidden bones
weights these
a blank white sphere
replicating meadow
we abandon our fingerprints amid the letters
© Marthe Reed
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