Crossing the Line



I remember

the comfort

of being held

by him

when I wept-

the money

he sent me

from college.


He was a baby

when I climbed into

his crib to sleep

beside him.


Was that when

it all began?


Dead all these years

He still lives

under my skin.



I follow

the curves

of the river,


in the sand,



a body

I lost.

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