i think of her
the same way people think of
hunger balanced on their tongue
or when the thunder
perfectly timed, cracks open the sky
the soft vowels and slight curve
as i dust her off the shelf
put her back, limbs attached
stare at her forlornly without a care
i think of her
when the thought in my mind becomes heavy
as heavy as a lie
but there is nothing here
but space and backspace
the death of another poem