a circuit， bled memory

a sance of the veins^{1， a liquid hinge}

Deceit， the tones of dreamed sceneries

defaced by a single face

and yet the day itself is more marred²

by these traces of fragrance³

chances to fathom^{4 her absence}

or collapse^{5 with the sap of plants}

and sleep， and demand of a jasmine-scented face

How are you still so fragrant^6？

An object at a morgue or an organ