There are walls in my home
I covered with the detritus
of my long folded age.
You scan the roosters.
The Busch Gardens
Characters. Three televisions.
There are the birds. Cackling. All the clocks
I collect. Only one or
two valuable. I collect
meaningless
hopeless
Creaks.
My old joints resist the
morning. Today I will
dust. I will twist my
mind away from the
relevance of you.
As I do everyday.
As everyday morphs
the symbols of a life
unearned.
A conversation un
finished, memory
whose cellophane
crinkled is gone
With the wind.
I Am a cliche. Your
protection is irrelevant.
You can turn my face
away, take off my
clothes.
Look for the cancer
taken from me, The
Cure.
Apply your hands to
me, that in the end
may
Bless
Tomorrow.
Caroline Shank
May 30, 2026
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 8:53 AM UTC
There are walls in my home
I covered with the detritus
of my long folded age.
You scan the roosters.
The Busch Gardens
Characters. Three televisions.
There are the birds. Cackling. All the clocks
I collect. Only one or
two valuable. I collect
meaningless
hopeless
Creaks.
My old joints resist the
morning. Today I will
dust. I will twist my
mind away from the
relevance of you.
As I do everyday.
As everyday morphs
the symbols of a life
unearned.
A conversation un
finished, memory
whose cellophane
crinkled is gone
With the wind.
I Am a cliche. Your
protection is irrelevant.
You can turn my face
away, take off my
clothes.
Look for the cancer
taken from me, The
Cure.
Apply your hands to
me, that in the end
may
Bless
Tomorrow.
Caroline Shank
May 30, 2026
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