What Leaves and Comes Back in Another Body

Tiniest insect body pressed
against glass: a near-
translucent ochre, like a leaf
torn from its parent tree. 

No matter how far you drive,
it remains like that, unmoving,
perhaps already drained of life. 
You don't peel it off yet. 

You think of the possibility
it might house breath, 
a spirit returning from the other 
side— All the cloudy faces 

of your dead, constellated.
Papery husk, veined lacewing.

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