Now that I have lost your infinite gentle touch Your disheveled morning hair, the tangled constellation of freckles On your pointy shoulders, the way you nibbled on the pies crust And tossed aside the filling, the way your lips would plump After eating too many strawberries, the way you used to say ‘Oh how you’ll miss me one day’ and ‘Oh how you’ve been loved’ What remains for me to do now, in any case, is take A merely narrative…