His hands grip the sink,
as he remembers Louise
His shoulders tighten and recalls
her denizen of dim cupboards;
her telluric throes and chipped teeth that
constellated the empty room’s eight corners
where her shoulders became leaden.
Now she—arcane and a shelved longueur
is an opaque scratch on
his deserted Polaroid,
tucked in the frame of the bathroom mirror.
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