[wpaudio url=”/audio/june13/Morgan.mp3″ text=”listen to this poem” dl=”0″]
 

I have her laugh, I’m told
and my arms flap as I talk
until I hold them down, remembering
how her movements drive me mad

And that noise she makes,
a strange air sucking
She seems hollow, spending
her days alone, denying a grief unimaginable.

a deluge of tears
will drown her. I know that.

She holds her arms around herself.
I do, too.