memories bounced then slid on wine
heading for the screendoor.
unfamiliar with the layout
of my moonish mind
they twisted, drowned exquisitely.

ethanol laments

abandonment; who cries about
the violin you smashed?
you’re a ghost on my doorstep
marking time, unstrung.
one bad patch in the afternoon
after summer’s chase.

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what i actually posted in the challenge noted in last post …

the ten words?
patch memories violin doorstep laments afternoon bounced chase screendoor cries