dear friend, we’re it not for the tears held back—
but no, let me start again. After all, it is spring
and the half-clinging leather of newly uncovered

corpses satisfies the flies. But that’s not it either.
Somewhere around here there is a small book from
the past that I’ve carried for years and never read.

I tried to be two things but the paper kept curling and I couldn’t get a straight line so I decided to move to the next town where I met someone who reminded me of a girl I once knew whose name I never learned as we only ever joked about certain forbidden vegetables while we were in school together though it was more of a forced labor camp but when those ghostly blue flowers came again in the spring we were allowed a minute of silence to think of the photos we once had pinned up by our cots now long eaten by moths