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  • Child

    you have left your mark
on the sidewalk
where I passed

    a small hand
half the size of now
pressed deep 
into wet grey mud

    your name 
in the cement’s surface

    where we held hands

    and walked to school


    I look at my hand
and see yours aging
resting side by side

    with mine
on the green tablecloth

    where I took our picture
my skin

    not so supple
as it was when
you were still here


I watched the nurse
press your tiny hand

    into black ink
marking your brief life
on a fresh white card
I make a photograph
as she peels

    your silent fingers
to show me

    you have left

    your mark
on my world
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