24 November 2021
Her gift was to have
Friends who disliked each other
Ignored each other
Her sainthood from fear
Of being orphaned again
“I don’t want to talk”
For she might offend
Those of us so easily
Offended micro
Chips of difference
Embedded in Brain, as he
Said it, Jakobson
I stuck in wood desk
Giggled, lack of definite
Article left side
Of Brain, right side of
Brain, its company we keep
Unable to see
Any traffic but
In front or behind, inner
Vehicles get lost
On roads, those nearer
Home moving far away he
Pulled out a map she
Said, landing small plane
On Moloka`i and she
Wondered if he knew
One from another
Island partitioned by sea
Turtles, flying fish
Breaching whales, private
As our friend until the need
To breathe draws us out
“She drew me in,” he
Said, after she refused to
Talk his voice breaking
At memory which is
Absence ill fitted with words
Like hammering nails
Where there are no boards
Old pianos ironic
Practice makes perfect
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