[entry 12 – early August – 102°F – air thick with not-saying]
you didn’t slam a door.
you thinned.
cooled.
slipped.
forgot.

you left it open.
(silence is humid)

[margin sketch – shape of a chair]
your chair
was warm,
like memory. [heat - imprint - impression]
i stayed
until it cooled.
(echo or signature?)

[entry 19 – sleepless – thunder outside, nothing inside]
praying.
pacing.
washing dishes
just to hear
something
break.
(you seen)
(you took)
(you gone)
*i wish you’d text* - didn’t mean that


[field report – body inventory – incomplete]
ribs: rigged for impact.
hands: relearning open.
eyes: counting not-turnings.
mouth: nothing new.
spine: not breaking. bending.
feet—
[entry 20 – sudden heatwave]
surge today.
several crimes
of passion
in five
minutes.

murdered your
memory
a few times—
tore up pictures.
crossed out smiles.
blood on shattered glass.
—in my head. (no cleanup necessary)
(except guilt)

i couldn’t bring myself
to cross a line
i couldn’t
come
back
from.
(i stay. but i know where the edge is.)
your eyes
are needles
in all
the wrong
places.
i hate that.
but god—
i miss
you.
[margin stain]
[field note – falling star]
you
took longer
to come back
every time
i hailed—
light
from a star
already
gone.
(receiver’s still on)


[margin fragment – lined in ink, not voice]
you saw me.
you see me.
you
see me—
right?
but god
sometimes
i
forget
how.


[postscript – taped in]
connections: just
[islands.]
[ oases.]
[ mirages.]
better enjoy them while they’re here because
surprise—
(like hope)

[final field note – no date]
mug still warm.
two chairs.
no thunder.
I’m noticing this: I used to chase. Now I sit in the doorway you forgot to close, lighting a cigarette that smells like you leaving. It still hurts. The crying hasn’t gotten smaller; I just know it won’t break me.
porch light still flickers—
moth-wings against the screen door.
I do not shut it.
(just in case)