Abstract

> Square patches of sunlight blanketing my piano > > Remember you today, Lola. > > They speak of a baby-pink end of life, somehow beautiful in your paralysis > > Of square patches of flesh dissolved into bed sores you couldn't feel. > > They speak of your gorgeous fair legs, that singing voice, book-writing days, indigents you fed. > They remember the healthy you because I cannot. > I remember the petrified you. …

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