I’m standing
in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom next to the walk in shower
wearing a bottle green two-piece swimsuit. And it all looks reasonable. I
haven’t been to the pool so much this winter but I’m trim. Except there’s a
hole where my heart used to be and try as I might, I can’t remember where I
left it.
It was there
on birthday in July because I have photos of friends and laughter. I still had
it on the ferry to Greece and when I emerged after holding my breath for far
too long. In early October it fluttered and hurt after a chance encounter one
night happy on wine. At New Year I tucked it up to bed with my family.
I wonder if
the dog has eaten it. I can be careless and he is always hungry. Or if I’ve
lent it to a friend in need and forgotten who. I should open the drawers and
spring-clean what no longer fits but I’m afraid that I’ll come across the
letter I wrote you, that you sent back. I’m afraid I’ll find a pounding bloody
mess and will have to clean it up and that it will ruin the summer.
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