The Dust of My Husband

Originally published in Eunoia Review

My lungs once devoured
air full of your dust
and now they are addicts

in withdrawal.
I searched in your threadbare
pillow, your favorite shoes,

the ashes you left in the fireplace.
I did not find dust,
but your lovers handwritten

on a piece of yellowed paper.
There were many, and my name
was not the last on your list.

I placed your pillow
and shoes on the ashes
and lit a match.

I watched you burn –
breathed you in.

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