Her hair on her brush, her toothbrush still on the counter, her weird gourmet sauces in the fridge, her bobbypins

in weird places, her last shopping list in my purse, fingerprints on car mirror, items I pass in the grocery store that I always got for her, things I want to show her, tell her, her footprints I think I hear, the tablets full of her poetry; the

exquisite/sad/tortured poetry, the friends expressing their sorrow that I resent because they had long abandoned her, the…