zosia

of the five or six people
at her wedding
three or four knew her well
two or three still send her
text messages that say,
"hello, i miss you"
one or two are graced
with a reply:
"it has been a long time
i am in colorado with my husband
who no longer has a gold tooth
and we are remembering
the cosmos and each other"
or perhaps:
"i miss you, too."
a thought drifts by, eventually
that maybe she has forgotten your name
or replaced your face with
one of those faces that has hurt you
that to remember you
would feel like a broken allegiance,
to forget you would feel
like the setting of the sun;
replaceable beauty, working
day in and day out
to remind her of the cosmos
and you have been one, two, three, four
and five or six times a fool