A Portion
Do not touch my closet
Got in the habit of keeping my secrets there
Neatly packed, pressed and perfumed
Taken out to air once a year
Time of the spring-cleaning
Do not touch my boudoir
Somebody said—no
I kept it
Somebody bumped on every word
I picked them up
Somebody may have cried
Drops are hard to store
Somebody may have called
Only the stained moments remain
Neatly packed and pressed
Perfumed and aired once a year
But not to sunlight
That’s bad for the complexion
One must keep up the face
Cobweb dust and grime
Microbes all tiny bits and fragments
Some looking like me
Some like me
Some who are me
Cobweb dust and grime
The path I walked
The air I touched
The puddle I stopped by and arranged the face of my reflection
The tree showering dry petals all over me
The flowers were dead, too, poor poor tree
Come spring and all to air
Come spring and struggle through the closet
Reach out strain out grope and grasp
Reach out till the hands feel alone
Reach out till the eyes grow dark
Reach out till somebody cries HELP
HELP O Wind leave them
HELP O Rain dissolve them
HELP O Fire forgive them
HELP O earth embrace them
HELP O Skies hold your hungry chasms back
A part of those moments I saved
Words that lay scattered on the grass I drank
Tears that oft were mingled with smiles showered like dried flowers
And microbes
All tiny bits and fragments
Some like me
Some looking like me
Some who are me
O where you may have passed
Through ruins and graveyards
Eaten leaves frightened weeds and breathless air
Roots of dead trees and withered grass--
O Where, Where may have passed
A portion----
Comments