A poem
You are my all
– David Dineen-Porter
You are my all,
you are the broad house, gabled and arched against time,
you are the solar winds from which my comet’s tail blooms, streaking rain that defines me against the black fathomless deep of space
you are the autumn slip, the rain, a reminder of a bidden time of cupboards and buckles,
you are the last person to see me alive
you are wanted for questioning by the York region Police
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