Immunization

Today you are a paper husband—
torn envelopes, bill stubs, a refund check for $5.68
scatter-piled on the wormwood table.

I’ve imagined in this way before,
divined absence with hot, brackish tears—
a homeopathic dose.

I text you at lunchtime,
When it’s easier to love
in a surprising way.

–Genevieve Legacy


Poetry

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