and be entered, if not by the mouth
of love, by words from mouths that made
love possible, or by the memory of words.
[…]
If the flesh is hushed, memory ravishes,
stands under loss, stupefied by understanding,
marries absence to desire, both being outside of time,
and makes a riddle of similitude.
Kathleen Peirce, from “Confession 9.10.25,” The Oval Hour: Poems
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