I have carved thousands of photos
of my life in stone
without my name
let alone gilded
in chiseled capitals

Photos for strangers
who don't live yet
I have counted and weighed them
their balance is nothing
flat

I ripened, I am softer
and sweeter now
not who I have been
not what remains hard
as if it still exists

With all my experiences
I swaddled myself
in the stone folds
to decay there
and be forgotten