I Try Uncovering You By Means Of An Alphabet

A woman, reliably kind

and of an undetermined age,

routinely reflects upon the

tacit and explicit assumptions

held in a memory now liberated.

. . . . .

In the process of mulling over its spilled vocabularies,

perception blossoms beyond the tedium of her current situation.

. . . . .

Poetry becomes her driving obsession

as she reflects on the life she once knew.

Spent stretches of time, common to us all,

lead to threads of love, of loss, of revelation,

as charitable dramas of self disentangle.

Father and mother / behind my eyes / I pause with you in mind /

cleaving, always cleaving to the commotion of memory.

. . . . .

Somewhere within that affective inner space

the child comes out – but it is there that I had to let her go,

incapable of expressively maneuvering the words to continue –

those which her reasoning might well have discerned.

. . . . .

The past that made her who she is no longer exists – its alphabet disappeared
with all the other disengaged components of my present concentration.