All the buried places
will eventually find you

Salvaged from a cold day

Everyone remembers
with a Thread of Hatred

So many years pulling after you
Silent tethers of need

Something steps out from behind a tree
merely an accumulation of leaves

Imagine it was your father coming back
So that you could pass through his membranes

Hear his voice as it spoke

Whatever we lose,
though we dream and hardly know it,

will use us

So utterly itself and nothing else