We will all meet again
When time has wound to an end.
We will grasp the frazzled, ragged edge
And run along it until we find
The beginning of time
And her twisted hedge.
She will clutch us against her silken blouse
And at last…
We will find our peace in that old yellow house….
Not one foul word will we remember
Not one ugly face
Not one weeping December.

It will all be as if it never took place
I won’t remember the cuts on my arm
The harm
I did to myself…
Nor the cuts I can’t see
The missing snowglobes on my mother’s shelf….