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E.V. Noechel

I don’t remember words, conversations or
where we’d go, if we went anywhere. I do
recall your missing smile and imagine
that it is still on the loose. You may never
find it, though I have suspicions you are keeping
it bound in a box behind the sofa […] Maybe

you even look at it, like polished stones
that have no use. Admire it and feel the cold
smoothness I don’t remember. I don’t remember
erasing pencil memories. I don’t remember
lying in ink.

— E.V. Noechel, from “Lying in Ink,” Center: A Journal of Literary Arts (vol. 1, no. 2, 2002)

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