– handkerchiefs –

Searching for the source,

‘where did it start to turn left?’

‘Where did the loss begin,

losing the beat in my breast?’

Was it ev’ry holiday

that you didn’t pass through,

not seeing handkerchiefs under the tree

Ma had bought for you?


You can’t lose what you never had, but I

could’ve sworn I had you, the

trip to your small studio, and

hanging with Donalda too. Is

this why I’m not wiry enough

with relations I make? I

may lose them, closest of kin and the

handkerchiefs you didn’t take.



D.J. Whisenant


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