Thursday, May 31, 2012

First Poem In Memory of Roe

I spent ten minutes
in the bus station
deleting the old
text messages from
the week when she died
and up until the
time of her funeral.

I don't have too much
by which to remember her
left with me now,
imagination and
memory intertwined
in a strange and painful
romance long finished.

There's still the stuffed bear,
the shared photographs,
the simple recipe for
garlic mayonnaise,
the inscribed black
leather notebook to fill with
"all your wonderful poetry",

And a slowly mending broken heart.

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