Closure
I didn’t hear the shots. Didn’t see his body fall.
Didn’t see the spilling of his blood.
Just got to (re)live absence’s long reach
got to (re)imagine the moment of erasure
how it refuses a definite shape but lingers—
(Re)assembled
dwindling memories 

felt the taunting / trauma of uncertainty
and desire’s constant ache
See how words suture wounds.
I was / am there. I cradle his body as he falls.
I bathe him with tears. Cover him with kisses
in place of a shroud. Bury him where he falls
before the soil absorbs his blood.
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Image by Mohammad Husaini from Pexels
Homa Mojadidi is an Afghan American poet and translator. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Asymptote, Washington Square Review, South Carolina Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Northwest Review, Calyx, Gulf Stream, Anomalous Press, Blue Mountain Review, Mudlark, One Art, Beyond Words Literary, and Arcana Poetry Anthology. Her work explores the themes of loss, exile, memory, and mysticism. Homa has an M.A. in English Literature from the University of North Florida and an M.F.A. in Creative Writing with a concentration in poetry from George Mason University.
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