K in P (plus one) | Kimberly Lyons

3 Celetna Street

I see your face,

shaped like a butterfly in the photo in

Kafka in Prague.

The dusty stairs and stone arches.

The materiality of day

breaks bones.

In the night, you wrote

while your sister's argued.

The intensified circle of thought.

Bohemian lace.

A cup of tea, a pool of gratitude,

before it sectionalizes.

Such a city holds earth,

prime, the ash. The reversals.

Your letters mailed from a brass box

near the door.