One day you slowly wake up the body still covered by night & nothing happens nothing is remembered, her name out of your mind. You touch your chest and feel something that had not been there. Maybe a pin, a little miracle
hanging from a dusty church wall. Your heart, cheap metal, red ribbon, in place of a vanished memory. You touch the skin around nipples and feel some kind of trace. One day all names will become silhouettes, the footprints of hunted animals.
A hay(na)ku chapbook.