wisps
of wheat-blonde hair.
your icy eyes protrude from
South Carolina hills,
eyes colder than
water we guiltlessly
slip into.
I hold you, an envelope,
to the eye-colored sky.
search in vain for a name
on enclosed lined paper.
the ground here
is more red than murder.
two blinks from your
eyelids -
camera shutters -
a photo I will not see.
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