Shroud, halo, aura of smoke
Swirling round my disposition
I watch as an exhalation casts a shadow as determinate as my own.

My family –
My family –
Yes, we are a family.
But
When push comes to shove
The memories shroud like smoke
And I cannot see through.

My family:
Four isolated individuals
Thrashing in the ocean
Grasping each other in the hope of staying afloat
Is how it has always been.

If four corners make a square,
Is each corner defined as “segment of square”?
Or can the four points reach into a rectangle infinite
Stretching perpetually further from one another?

Outside of my window is an oak
In the autumn, this oak becomes a yellow dandelion tree erupting with splendor and where it was once meek and young with flat green leaves, now there is fire!
And every other tree its disciple.

Walking on leaf littered concrete
I step over hundreds of bodies.
Their irregular coloration seems to beg –
“I am not finished yet.”
I wince with every crunch underfoot.

Walking through darkness
Alone, again
And I return
I return to the place I always do
The place that keeps me when I sleep
But does not keep me safe –

Jugula nigra drops its fleshy fruit,
Encased, one nut –
Enough nutrients for several generations.
Ink stains my hands black
As I tear away the husk
Obliterate the shell
Desperately seeking that which is not rotten.
I didn’t find it.
Now, when I walk, I look straight ahead.

Seeking a solution for the void to fill the emptiness
Running outside,
Around, and around, and around
Until I retire to my wooden square
I pace nervously
I pace
I pace
With niether conviction nor righteousness.

Another leaf, unfinished with life,
Aborted by the tree.
I cannot see one more.

I suppose I had wanted to reconcile
These leaves with these branches
But I am powerless.
I am a ghost.

Perhaps these words will float away,
But likely, they will reverberate in my bones
For life.

Outside of my window is an oak
Its leaves have dropped.
The fire has been extinguished.
I close my eyes
And let one thousand poplars swirl me away.