soft inheritance
by Tiffany Morris

entangled in
bedsheet topography
this is what
my fingers trace:
the billion year echoes
of impulse
and their longing
on river water,
their salt stains
& wildfires,
their memories pressed
in pages of rock and
calamities of bone
the lunar-tinged
silver of your eyes,
dilated in the song
of early evening shadow:
this is what
my fingers trace
tracing you

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