Map of the revisited

Everything is the country
of childhood— a dented thimble,

your secret name embroidered
into the tufted loops of a terry-

cloth towel, the undersides of mantels
studded with pearls of drooping,

hardened paint. Let’s compare patterns
in enamelware and gold and white

Corelle; the blue speckled cups
you say remind you of chamberpots,

the flowered wreaths around each
plate. Months when the sky

was a nimbus of fog and rain,
drumming on roofs the map

of the known world to the farthest
edge: where it shuddered and fell.

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