"It is the memory of love we love."
                                            ~ Sandeep Parmar

if it's true death binds us                                            closer to history
then we've always studied                                                                elegy

schooled in grief                                                 the moment we break
from the womb we squint                               through the first door

overcome by light                                                and air— i dont' know 
how to describe                                      the first cry that left my lips

how long it bannered                                                        until subsiding 
a friend asked if i could remember         how it felt to be carried

in my mother's arms                                       what color and texture
how time felt then                                                         how it feels now

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