A poet friend asks me to take a photo of her
with a younger woman I don’t know.
They hide their faces with Japanese fans
while I fumble with a disintegrating camera.
Stacked cubes appear in the middle of the image.
My beloved partner in the puzzlers’ league appears,
even though she died last month.
She introduces me to a tall, gray-haired woman…

3 thoughts on “Conflation

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