You say el otro día, and it could be any time, An afternoon of sunlight on red bougainvillea Or a time when the canals
Ashes from his body under my tongue, soft as an uncoated pill, life reduces to soft gray. Tiny bone fragments rough up my mouth,
Trying to suss out whether absence is enemy or friend, we sit side by side in Adirondack chairs, our minds in the flames licking