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of all that I am ~
another there living
in the worlds of my passing
a house down the way
chickens and clothes lines
merrigold peepers ~
as purple wallpaper
now peeling away

of dust I’ve collected
tales to deliver ~
and thirty years more
than the last to repeat
who will remember
the places I’ve known
or tastes (to my tongue)
by longing
made sweet

rusted to ground
as proof of the living ~
of who wandered first
and who gave me name
as backwards becoming ~
a time when my laces
unraveled the same

touching the light
of burning horizons ~
where destinies crowd
another to come
whispered I love you’s
are swept to the corners ~
as scars to remind us
of promise undone

lay me to rest ~
covered with flowers
glories and ribbon
the colors of spring
tell them you knew me
tell them you loved ~
but beg not your silences
tell them a thing

the creek is still rising
where the dreamer
once found me ~
awaiting his fate (as mine) to unfold
came from a distance
a long time returning
hands seeking lace ~
as stories untold