Sorry

We are all at loss. We lose ourselves
over distant things, hurting us without
any contact. We are all at loss

for words, which should rather be
accepted for its truth: this dawn,
this son, this mother’s grave, this

that was that. Breaking news:
He had a gunshot wound to the heart,
an external wound to the back

of everyone he loves – those who loved him –
as if consoling them. We are all at loss
as if we always owe an apology.

I woke up never hearing a gunshot from the cemetery.

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