Revenant

​

Backdoor wears his face,

every swing unearths breath,

I feel his words

like hands in pockets.

 

I bury memory deep,

duffel what’s left into a garbage bag

and double knot.

 

In the living room, his portrait hangs

on a nail. I stamp his smile

with my thumb. I cannot let him

breathe.


He will not hold down,

a breeze sleeves through

the workshirt he left.

​