All memories left

by on February 12, 2021 :: 0 comments

do not haunt me
as much as the ones
that fled like virus deaths.
Blew out, in fact,
like a mistral, mask-less,
whipping toward Arles,
like police, all white,
taking another Black body south
to Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer,
a pile of them on the beach
by the deceased sea.

editors note:

To be ghosted by such is better. – mh clay

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