Tuesday, May 31, 2022

The Vanishing Sonnet

You don’t go. You stop.
Then, after you stop
Becoming someone

Slightly different
Hour by hour by hour,
You begin to go.

Someone remembers
A version of you
They personally knew,

Then no one, and then
You’re some artifacts,
Family heirlooms,

A bit of data,
A cluster of us.

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