• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 11
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Did I remember
to thoroughly wash my hands
before donning these gloves

Just to be sure
should I wash them again
this time with awareness

Snap out of this daze
where I imagine my father
resurfaces creeping from ether

If I squint he appears
as does every microbe
that sent him away

Tonight the sun sets
earlier than last night
in this solitude

I have barely borne it
with the aid
of summer sun

When I preserve
the last cherries
I will fold into myself

A bruised blue batter
praying for a keeping ring
and lid to contain me