when sunlight hits foggy glass just right
prints reveal themselves, oil smeared into smiling faces
pictures finger painted with no paint, phrases scrawled without a pen
as if to scream i am human, and i was here
couples etch initials into the sand
an inch deep with their big toes
giddy as if the tide won’t soon swallow them whole
echoes of laughter prove that they were here
former tenants’ mail still delivered to my house
even though they’ve long been gone
it feels wrong to touch it, so it piles up, until nothing else will fit
we throw away the reminders that they too were here
ivy snakes up the gala apple trees
planted half a century ago, bark rough and worn
by loving hands wrinkled by age and the sun
an abundant legacy left behind here
mossy headstones cast shadows onto their neighbors
cicadas weep, breaking years of silence
they are the only ones who have cried here in years
over the only evidence that they were here
freckles smattered on shoulders and round cheeks
tattoos on ribs and scars on knees
the world imprints on me, i leave all but a scratch on it
whispering i am human, and i was here
