Wednesday, January 07, 2015

A Third Coast

On the brine of memory
the ink of veins marks spots

It is a storm of forgetting;
at each sob, she jettisons

Parents as they were, embraces
in sorrow how they now are

sweeps it all into feeling
grabbing and flailing even so


1 comment:

prabhu said...

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That picture of yourself in academic drag you took when people were consistently mistaking you for an undergraduate (because genes, but a...