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.