the bracelet of a woman without a body | grave/content | a poem

her hand does not exist anymore

I see it in my head

I imagine that I touch it

reach out

hold it in mine

still

the crooked fingers

the bracelet around the wrist

hers

her incinerated bones

in her white dress

washed clean

off

everything

grey and destroyed

within her

lava into me

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

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