desgarrar

I went through a great divorce--
left pieces of my lips on your collarbone, your abdomen, your belt buckle.

The letter I sent contains your personal items:
whispers, last winter, a sonogram.

I trust you will be able to take care of the weeds,

the smoke rings I blew in your hair- grey.

This isn't a dent,
there's no need to apologize,
I concieved this on my own.