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Traces of Her

She’d leave this mattress and rest

now and again, but I’d never

witnessed it; always when I called

 

she was positioned

for a quick entry; on the bedside table

there’d be a box with a white tongue

 

hanging out alongside a fat

appointment book that had my name

on every leaf. I moved in as tenant

 

when she left for Australia;

the only thing I’ve changed

is the telephone number.

◄ Okay From the Waist Up

Night Visit ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (4281)

Mon 12th May 2008 08:07

Dai, Sounds like a lovely memory of someone dear to you. Mysterious though.

Thank you,
Zuzanna

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