Still Echoing

Poem by King Davey

(for those whose breath didn't reach home in October)

I remember the morning he kissed my cheeks
his breath, hugging at my neck
telling me the geography of my body
that was the last time, he taught.
Because,
dead men tell no tales,
except they died carving stories into minds,
except they lived for these stories,
except their bodies became home to these w…