Dead Name
two
Write a poem from the point of view of yourself, ten years ago.

They say that objects in the mirror are closer than they appear,
But you are a blind spot filling my entire rear view.
I know the texture of your name like an echo on my tongue.
I don’t hear the same voices you heard
An unfamiliarity in the screaming spaces between our breaths,
I split like a cicada
Tearing free from a skin knit too tightly

Were we ever as one?
Because I feel like I’ve always been shedding you.