XXVII.
is it hope brings you here today to my office to my study to my surgery to my room
i can feel you pressing your breast on the curtain your breath your blood on the curtain
who is your people is your apology for what are they what is it I’m sorry I’m so sorry what for
first they first first they searched the body you left second they turned the studio upside down
like a vase the flowers were dust they inspected the dust on their fingertips third they moved through the rooms
systematically unearthing what hope for them new notes in named envelopes a vial of morphine like old days
a glass of teeth a drawer of repeat prescriptions and boxes and boxes of drugs what have i left out
what left you you who like Bolaño cough when i cup your balls people you loved
let them go
cough the sisters you had the brothers and the missing twins like a movie the old man takes off
his underwear hanging on to a leather strap that dangles like the old man from the ceiling of the bus
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