I sat down to write and couldn't The glow of the lamp held me bringing me back to an old record machine gaudy fat gold rings, disco light gemstones dancing in a bar I slipped the token in Shuffling reminders-- the wound was still there, under the stretched scar, ancient, white at the temples Still, phantom pains shoot, drawing fresh blood Fountain of youth --
The way it was resting In structured fruit bowl making way day by day to ultimate form only to break apart tonight -- softly, not a pin drop It began at the meeting of skin to metal punctured by ruling lines fruit sagging into haphazard grid, kept warm like live sculptures on rotation Hot heavy orange blanket, Crisp sheets smoothed and tucked in Like it mattered, and it did
very much so
In the final hours of the night, I closed my eyes to dream
A few more days and the juice will leak Fruit sweat of over ripe papaya, The whole becoming, compost for new growth
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 