I was alone and bored when I began
to shuffle through photos on her camera.
It was a shock to see her after her boyfriend hit her.
I’d been the first person she’d called
the one on the phone begging
her to leave while he showered.
The one to call her mother.
It must have been her mother
who stood before her
with the camera.
An older woman who knew
these things must be done.
I set it down before
my dearest friend returned to the room
beautiful with a pregnant grace.
When I think of that trip home
I don’t remember
seeing her, as I remember seeing
how it held itself in front of her
held the space she’d walk through.
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