TW: suicide, child death
there is dissonance in the distance between
now and unthen

           (“the memory of then”)

                     you didn’t come out,

                     couldn’t—didn’t have the door knobs nor the

                                          guts to, just enough viscera to strangle


the kids think the labels are designer now

caught one saying, you only they yourself bc you think it makes you

(like not dead kid cooling cool),

but at least they have the labels

instead of Goodwill sweater-fare that doesn’t quite fit and maybe itches

at least when the news comes,

the new kids know there was a word for why people like you



folks say culture is like the tide, in and out, kneeling and knee-jerk

it’s better now

it’s better now, isn’t it? even when the sea salt gets in your mouth above

your weary neck,

if you were around

you could see yourself in a Target ad, almost, kind of sort of,

if you don’t dress yourself, if you don’t speak yourself,

if you don’t

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