for Patty Templeton and Brett Massé

on the occasion of Gene Wolfe’s birthday


they say

a jar of it will still taste

sweet, sealed up

in pharaoh’s tomb

they say it heals wounds

like when they buried him

in rain, and riverboats, and

strawberry stone


this spell

you cast across the USPS–

what does it portend?

some golden immortality? or love’s

relentless industry?

substance or accident,

I let nothing linger

some gods you take

and eat

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