She left so many pieces of herself behind,
that even as the memory of her body faded,
new memories of her spirit—
as she was at the time of her death—
she posted pieces of her history
& her imagination,
the two converging like rivers on a map,
so that no one knew what was true
& what wasn’t.
When the calligrapher met the typist,
a war of words ensued—
a war where Functionality trounced Beauty in speed & legibility,
but Beauty trounced Functionality in artistry & forgery.