The Ache is to Become


31

to the ones everywhere
with orbits
fixed onto a yellow plate / the sun
of porcelain

stands in
for a meal not prepared.

Chairs not jostled from a table's disarray.
Voices of children / clucking
and consternation of aunts / stories
like threads

that refuse to unravel from a coat

you will no longer wear
/ and you will not throw out.

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