The Atomic Weight of Names

Tuesday I learned the name

of the woman who has hung

sword-like over me

for years.

I had always thought knowing it

would leech the venom

from the past.

But no.

It sat like a dead bird

in my cupped hands,

its atomic weight

an atrocity.

There’s no burying this creature

in hallowed ground.

Ghosts will always get

the last word.

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