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To love, still, that red & blue polka-dotted box bought from a Russian rummage store in New York. To dust it — not often enough. To stare at it — too often. To never open it anymore. Keep his ashes hidden. To rub my ears with my fists to hear anything else than absence in our house. To open again books we loved & read again the pages he had earmarked. To love what’s left — now that he left: poems & their eloquence of leaving things unsaid. -- Copyright 2022 Laure-Anne Bosselaar. First published in Cavewall number 17.
Laure-Anne Bosselaar's many books include These Many Rooms published by Four Way Books.