Where did I come from?
A country of what?
Big hearts?
That's what the guestbook said,
And the amnesia makes anything else suspect.
Still...
A chipped Greek frieze;
Shade inching over insalata Caprese;
Piazza Cavour from a smudged helicopter window at noon;
Faces in a crowd at LOVE park, rapid fire;
Dusk in an Irish cemetery;
Lakeside heather.
This departure is like rewriting
A book from memory.
How much of me—if any—is there?
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
Where did I come from?
A country of what?
Big hearts?
That's what the guestbook said,
And the amnesia makes anything else suspect.
Still...
A chipped Greek frieze;
Shade inching over insalata Caprese;
Piazza Cavour from a smudged helicopter window at noon;
Faces in a crowd at LOVE park, rapid fire;
Dusk in an Irish cemetery;
Lakeside heather.
This departure is like rewriting
A book from memory.
How much of me—if any—is there?
Poem for day 4 of National Poetry Month.
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