Again Lost

And anyway,
I could not see
(I was not supposed to see)
How it was
(How it could be).

Get a clean white cloth.
Try to displace that stain.
Or stand out in the yard
As the forked tongue electric
Makes ashes of dead wood,
Hope it washes away in the rain.

Or maybe that’s wrong.
What if it’s just too far from home?
Need a telescope
To look past the
Dark matter
Preoccupation.

Or what if it’s here but hidden?
Climb down those broken-board steps
To the cellar.
Breathe.
Dig through the rusty toolbox
And find the nail that can pierce it,
Or hold it together.

Just stop forgetting to remember.
This is one detail
Caught in the headlight —
The fogged-in grind —
Stone —
The daily minutiae.

Don’t forget.

Step back again.
Breathe.
And remember —
This is a passing cloud.
These are the shoes on your feet.
This is a bird in a tree.
Steering wheel —
Hard eye —
Iced pavement —
Lung —
Melting —
Heart.
You’re not the only one
Who is still
Here.

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About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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