Sunday, March 30, 2014

March 30th

-hear, o daughter, and consider-

all your open invitations falling
like seeds upon unbroken ground
washing up in eddies underfoot
too much a multitude to search through

one i caught midair and kept it

those were the leaf shards
hidden in the jewelry box and crumbling
your invitation like their scent still releasing
each time I opened up  the case

i took it with me when i died

it lived sealed in the storage bins
amid the clutter kept from my childhood

it waited

while i learned the electric letters
of a foreign language, listening
through the glass door to the music
calling the children home

i went west

I lived in ransacked rooms
borrowed rooms, rooms built
on middle class soil in the middle
of small yards and adorned
with surface finishes

still all your open invitations fell through
the maze of those walls in whispers-

I began to consider