Granule
There is a hole when I look up
from the table to see that you are gone.
The tiny indentations left
in our forearms leaning across sugar crystals
in a time when a single
granule
was a large enough prospect
for us to meet, for my look to be taken up. Now
the sugar is what it is. It is
packets. Packeted
heaped teaspoons and their
featureless interruptions.
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