there is a theory that the cells of our children
remain in our bodies
long after we have pushed them into the world

i think about this when i realize she’s dead
(i never forget but i’m always remembering)

i am constantly folding into it,
nuzzling the thought that she remains in me,
embedded and encoded
on some kind of elemental level

my body absorbed pieces of her
as carefully and instinctively as my soul did

it’s as lovely as she was lovely

but really, isn’t it absurd to think
that it would be any different?

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