Missing Is a Stimulant

by Jeff Clark
     a circuit， bled memory
     a séance of the veins， a liquid hinge
     Deceit， the tones of dreamed sceneries
     defaced by a single face
     and yet the day itself is more marred
     by these traces of fragrance
     chances to fathom her absence
     or collapse with the sap of plants
     and sleep， and demand of a jasmine-scented face
     How are you still so fragrant？
     An object at a morgue or an organ