Tuesday 7 October 2008

Yes. It's still interesting. To me, anyway...



By the time I return

I am not me and before long
I am gone again. The nights are longer
and they take their toll, even
when the sun is bright and my cheeks
take the brunt of it.

Idyll is unattainable, but respite
is not. I leave the dust to its gathering
again, but without my skin to form it,
what will it be? The gathered storms
of housemates; even my own dust is not me.

Before long, the smell of something else
will be where I was, and my clothes
will not fit. I am not above growth.
I carry something with me that is changeable.
Perhaps it will deliver me from where I've gone.

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