/harsher sentences

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Why parts of her seem missing (body, memory)but alsocolour shape fragance accent

skin.

On the table now: what abhors ithow our white supremacist eye defines valueif it is good or black

if there was valuehow she carried its markersoutside & then in

Questions hang in the middle like a car mirrorever presentawaiting my glanceframing me

i realize i'm always in the centrein the middle of the carin the middle of the highwayin the centre of the city

my city (in the daytime)

in the middle of a mobile day, the questions glance backwith harsher sentences

If she had beena black girlnative girlasian girllatinawould her smiling six-year-old facegracethe flashy front page of the Sun?

this is a hardest question, one of the hard ones.would it?

Whose deaths do we let go bynot noticing who the we isnot bothering to make officiala fuss ofher absence

these terrible ellipses;how to grieve over the bodies of the dead girlswith these questionsknotted in our middle

how to bring all of our bodies back into the presentknowing without her to begin withmost of our stories wouldn't even exist

the dead girl instantiates the male detective herothe twin peaks of his epiphanies, his profanitieshis plot

a grave plot

twisted plottwisted mind

the blond-haired blue-eyed boy next doorcomposite of the scarborough rapist

what a plot twist, fingerspointing right back to centre

*

When tricked into joining the obituariesthe subversive woman finds herselfchallenged to resurrect all of the linksbetween massacre& mass occurrence

to plot twists in old logicinsurrections of memory

to let none of us go missing without a fusswithout all of us remembering morehard to recall what gets lost in the memory oferased is alwaysmore

Each woman's skin colour shape breath accentlightly exudingwhat each differently loves to look atin the particular shop windoweach different face reflected back to heras good, as memorablethat stopped her footfall amid syncopated rhythmswhat the rhythm means to herwhat each of us might want to be happening

the space where each of usfinds her own bodydifferentlyvia the mouth archaeologydelivered to this moment

© Christakos Margaret