Epilogue


“but I was only bruised”

—Denise Levertov

I thought you were a butterfly,

But I was just a construct.

I thought I was an open wound,

But you were not a surgeon.

I thought you were my subtext,

But I was just a shallow novel.

I thought I had healed,

But still I wrote this poem.

(November 27, 2018)

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