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Phonemes

I won’t remember the indemnities
proposed by bodies to love
that fell to the faults
beneath this Earth’s dough.

I won’t remember the rooked drafts we hoped
would revert our own eyes
to sponsor visages.

I won’t remember the pluvial morass
that sunk the house and left us
with erotic monomania,
         ineffable drownings,
         and drawn-out boardings.

The only philters we remember
are the phantasmic phonemes
splintering the spirants of your name
from the palatal mutings of steam.


An Incident