epitaph / vignette
what more can be said of a singular life
no more consequential after death than a broken
mechanism too complex to reassemble.
stilled-blood looks dark-red, cadmium red
with a Prussian blue chaser; darker than red,
darker than blue, a stage-set built within an empty,
perpetual space.
what more can be said of a singular life, born
on the year of the invention of synthetic rubber?
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