“If some longing goes unmet, don’t be astonished, we call that life.”
–Anna Freud
bits of matter
and they do matter
alive and tucked
into the lines
traced now
by soft fingertips
like a child
learning to read
follows the letter’s
sound which once
echoed the claw’s
scratch across
rough cave walls
or whispered
conversation’s
viscous flow
about a fire
grow
unremarked
from metaphor
used to explain
how we run
along different
routes the same
course like streamlets
slipping along
estranged paths
about the same
rocks until
they circumscribe
our hearts
with new words
for love’s tattered
remnants
of memory’s
more stable day
(October 28, 2014)
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