Out of sync I move
with the twitching light bulb
trying to remember him
how he stood and sounded
the shadow he cast
how the air tasted around him

Delving through boxes and bags
I found all that was left, hidden away

I tried on his clothes
the socks fitting
but the rest too small
faded in colour and style

I opened his diary
breaking the lock with the wrong key
and read aloud forgotten fictions
and scenes more true than memories

Then I found his ponytail
wrapped in newspaper
cut at the base and still tied with a band
smelling clean and new
and not grey and old
not even dead at the roots