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For Edward Said
The day you died I shed skin
and traveled to my childhood
I hid in the lemon tree
scraped bark onto muscle and bone
covered my eyes with the sticky sap
of your obituary
and let the ants feast
on honeydew words
Your email ended in Warmest wishes
a blanket signature because we wrote
in the language of winter
No warmth in w, r, m. Those letters
have always been icebergs
to me
even the burnt orange s
could not bring the sun
For years I found you
pulsing in the bark
of trees. Maple, Birch,
Pine
I would weep for your loss
spreading my tears
between the grooves
hoping to water
your ashes. I could never
know for sure until I discovered
you growing in plastic tear gas
grenades used as flowerpots
I saw you in the crisp green leaves
flowering the West Bank. That night
I went to bed with my skin
smelling faintly of citrus