Strayed bits

Parts of me
silently drift
to the floor,
and lay there.

A pubic hair by the bathmat,
a toenail clipped
and missed the trashcan,
unseen flakes of skin that might
eventually get noticed
as dust.

Miraculous stray bits,
once integral,
now like leaves on the forest floor,
now unattached,
now part of the whole.

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