Non-Erotic PoetryAfter You Are GoneI inspect your thumb print on a brandy glass like an archeologist,
examining the oily traces left on a clear palette.
A map of spiraling rivers that
intertwines in an ancient city,
marking the trade routes between lost civilizations,
the tributaries that wash love's remains into the sea.
This is the only lingering evidence that you have existed here;
I will leave the shell on my coffee table until the fossil becomes shadow
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