Hold on to the afterlife of the beloved, it’s the only thing that’s yours
Hold on to whatever magic in the backyard where we bury our thoughts, things of the world
Things of the world like an afterlife of the world to bury our setting outness
It’s right to extract bone from the afterlife, dust collecting shoes, relics of the afterlife
Cut a hole in the poem to play peekaboo with the afterlife
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