I am

a cup of rattling bones,

a bag of dried blood,

a parched whisper.

I have lost most

of what I knew,

but have no idea

what that was.

Memory does not

parse the past;

it provides 

a thin palimpsest

to cast over 

the ocean’s skin

before sinking

beneath the weight.

(April 21, 2023)

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.