A Kind of Recovery

Your space inside is cleaner now

Cubes of cardboard neatly stacked

And packing tape

As fragments from the ground return

Levitating to my chest

And entering

Though maybe not in prior form

They’re taking shape behind my ribs

And thundering

My blood returning to my veins

Transform these wounds to jagged lines

Along my skin

Your ardor and our history

Reduced to ink on notebook leaves

And postage stamps