therein raze he brought this book to us. she reads it to me over the phone as a way of giving back something that was lost. after we hang up, i pick through the pages on my own, a wild thing wandering far from home in search of sustenance. the absence of her voice is a weight i wouldn't wish away even if i could. to not know what it is to miss her would be to turn away from everything that matters. weathered words and sentence scraps i haven't scanned long enough to understand work their way into my mind without explaining why. i close my eyes and dream her here so we can pierce the parchment painted over muscle and bone with poems forged in the fire of finally being known. 260519 what's it to you? who go blather from