Tuesday spent pursed

behind cigarette-yellowed
blinds. My cold coffee at my elbow.
There are skin flakes
in the scrapbook�s binding.
Her face is in paper-cut focus,
but I�m looking at the fire hydrant
blurred in the snapshot�s corner.
The shiny red surface,
and she was still smiling, then.
Four days later the stone flakes
removed to mark the date on the grave fell
into my palm and slid to rest between my fingers.
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