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Christopher Shipman

When I die

 

—for Sarah

 

You’ll shoot down my heroes

because you live

 

on the tallest hill in the town in my heart,

where there are many smaller hills.

 

You’ll read my birth certificate

by your bay window hung from the sun.

 

You’ll memorize many wishes to forget

what I never wished to be.

 

Your animal spirit will leap to know

the wild night of domestication

 

for it too is wild. Your jointure is

the memory of me you plant in whatever

 

land bones grow skin. Darkly, I will rise

like a cat in the middle of the night 

 

to chase mice from your barn. I’ll bury

the fog of your sleep next to my grave,

 

and not tell you about any of this.

I will say everything.

 

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