Friday, July 13, 2018

The Uncurling

I had thought they were
telling a story about you
but then I catch my name
and know that now

this is a story about me.
It's just another story anyway. 
It seems there are only seven,
or eleven, or several hundred

with thin differences in place,
in time, detail, and mystery.
I grieved all the dead kittens
lying on the highway until 

you told me they were raccoons--
animals with no human family. Oh. 
So we recognize the incognizable--
is that even possible? I mean.


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