Remembering Hands Inside the Trash


Recognizing junkyard development-
A million pieces of rubbish.

But one shimmer.

For each outcast
A name.
For each name
A memory.

Whether acquired through a docile toss
Expressing momentary character in flight,
Or whoring imprints
Changing hands
Changing identities.

Each narrative
A story.
Each story

Beyond where memories crest
A neuron might misfire

And I might remember you too.

One thought on “Remembering Hands Inside the Trash

  1. This is beautiful… your blade is double-edged, sluicing & splicing both ways… but then love is like that & I bet everyone will miss you in La Crosse. I bet you’ll miss it, too. I know nothing of the place, but I’ve seen enough of you interact online to know that it’s filled with loving hearts. Ph & hey… Best of luck in your new city & your new job. Knock ’em, Tiger! xo

    Liked by 1 person

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