You write of
another love.  
You care not for the
tear of pain on a
bruised heart.

The past
cracks like shell. Poems
fall to the ground. There are
memories underneath my back.

Say nothing. Go to
the end of the day in your
safe place.

I release your voice.  I sing
to myself where you once sang,
unafraid.

Take me not to your happiness.
I drop down a rope
of words.
I will swing myself above  
memory.

Caroline Shank