(untitled)

A poem

 

Dear Cousin, these moments of inscription

 

accept as memorial, shards stranded

 

numbering on the line of days:

10226.8, 1985–2013

always reoccurring,

June is

 

ritual

all around us

 

digital:

age of staccato,

already the epistolary is cliché:

everyone addresses

someone, these letters

remain un-

sent

 

testimony

that space between

tear                                           and

terror

 

about the body

they will tell us,

move on