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memories, ghosts, dreams 109 Circumflex Natasha Sajé I gave away his clothes, keeping only wool I could wear, a hand knit sweater, natural grey cream— February 7, his birthday, now gone a few weeks and forever, like the battle of Hastings where English shields couldn’t hold and the language also gave way after 066 the circumflex appeared in certain French words—trône, suprême, voûte— an ornamental sign of grandeur indicating not even absence together we saw the Bayeux tapestry in subdued light behind glass in quiet rooms marveling at detail a thousand plus years later will I see someone on the street wearing the blue checked shirt with rough weave & bone buttons I liked so much? signs are vacant seductions, it’s him I miss in French a missing “s” can be marked with a circumflex 110 the widows’ handbook like the roof of a house in Ceyras, Languedoc: constellations of crosses on doors and beams scratched with the year a thousand plus years ago when animals lived below their owners and village houses crowded together against attack, within town walls now gone in one-third of the population the left ventricular circumflex supplies the sinoatrial nodal artery in others blood takes a different route his body presses memory festival becomes fête (fête d’anniversaire) paste becomes pâté (how we loved to cook) the vowel, then, of a certain quality, and long alphabet comes after sound as clothes make and do not make a man winter is winter no matter whom or what I miss or gave away ...

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