Sometimes when it’s this dark, I light matches & let them burn the tips of my fingers while I watch the flame—this is what I know about memory. It flickers when it feelslike it. I’ve tried to forget that bare- knuckle night I left work,thanking Nick for the quality of his daiquiris. He hada toothy …
He taught me no two blows sound the same, a ringing still lives in my ear singing a song calledbe quiet. I’ve hidden his gold rings in my throat, nearthe little boy—his face buried in his palms, ready to catchnot tears but the butterflies his stomachspills from his eyes—we share a body that doesn’t knowwhere …