these words are just letters
strung together,
some beads on a string,
some bones in the cold,
some things
without souls.
I’ve tried to defy this undefinable fascination
but I’ve found no reasons,
no rhymes,
no love songs,
no ties to tie,
only the back of my mind.
a necklace fastened with a tiny clasp,
a collar starched and ironed.
a hand with a sure grasp
knows the way, back
to the place we first met.
to the place they all go
in the middle of the road,
the place that we left.
although vision is
faded and failing
and the path is distant,
it searches in darkness by touch,
smoothly and quietly,
knowingly guided by memory.
a dress button buttoned,
a small of the back zipper,
just out of reach.
Advertisement
