“Gathering the Bones Together” by Gregory Orr. I love when a poem is dark and beautiful. And haunting. “Each night, I knelt on a marble slab/and scrubbed at the blood/I scrubbed for years and still it was there.” So there is haunting and haunted. Orr haunted my dreams last night. He walked into my head and shook my hand. We were familiar. I can understand how hard it can be to remember/forget.