poem , date unknown

Wormwood

He cups my soul

in the palms

of his hands

Millions of miles away from here

I hear his breath on my face

I gaze into the absence

where his eyes would be

And he smiles at me

I wonder why he said those

words to me that summer

In another body with another soul

In another mouth and eyes and fingers

And he hugs me and I cry and I try to remember what he said to me

All those years ago in that summer

when another body stayed with me

He runs his fingers through my hair

Partly his own and for a moment

I believe his story,

I believe Wormwood