Punctured letters
erect a splintered past–
one filled with skeletal translations
and spotty watermarks.Pupils scanning, struggling,
they mark an imprecise image–
I picture spindly limbs in black and white,
sepia rust,
shuffling across seas,
cases in tow.

I can only weave the words.
I know not
these handwritten spectres
that somehow share my name.


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