Piece by Piece.

As I spent some time looking through the pages of my notebook this morning, I found an unfinished poem that’s probably about a year old. And, as it sometimes happens with writing, it felt oddly appropriate at this very moment in my life – maybe even more so than back when I first started writing it. So I decided to finish it today. And that’s what I did – here it is:

Piece by Piece.

Words, words, words —

so stuck in my mouth

and then all of a sudden they fall out:

tiny milk teeth, white and edged

I must have touched you

one too many times

lost my fingerprints

all over your skin

they ran out of my hands

like sand out of shoes

it’s the curse old women

have always warned me about

I lost myself –

but does that make me free, liberated?

Now I’m no one

(to you?)

Take my hand, would you?

Or my eyes, my legs, strands of hair –

you can have a piece of me

if you don’t want it all

these are merely moving pictures

and it’s hard to hold on to something

that’s always on the move,

in motion, motion, motion

sometimes it strikes me:

we’re nothing but cold light

we’re already dead

but too busy to notice

My heart is flip book —

I —

love—

you

you

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2 responses

  1. I

    love

    your

    poetry

    the

    end

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