Thursday, September 11, 2014

without a roof tanka sequence

without a roof


I’ve never given
great thought to the “I”
of my soul  
whether it’s a blade of grass
or a gathering of acorns in the park

twenty autumns ago
before a suicide attempt—
I see my body
as it is now, torn and aching
like the hem of my jeans

regret
is not slanted, it is my own 
construction
the home I built
the house I chose 

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