Psychic Captions

after the car accident claimed them

Write you real. Unreel, like tape filled with face. Collage for funerals. Write upright. Not in the ground. Not sleep-tight. In covers, I’m colder than you and waves thumbed through then. Remember this. The only way to see or hear you (or me) is here. Wind up tape. Start over. Gape at curls, cheek. Wonder at fate and eye. You were (before spilt-dye snapped from bone split round neck) and spoke. Measured, metallic language wheels and pedals. Pretty still. I’ll bet, as creature, traveller, and door opens, before voice says, yes, unsettlingly gravity, you. yet—