August 2, 2010

memories are the rub

The slow unraveling
I can feel each piece
Come undone
Tiny squares break away
The result of my own doing

My secret life
Held together with wire and string
Withered to naught in time
Days of lost tracking
Counted numbers from a whole

As I stack my blocks
Back into me
I remember all the words said
And feelings felt
And my flood roars again

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