Monday, September 13, 2010



For lack of a bookmark
I lost my place
in the book of life.

If only I'd turned down the page
used one of my frizzy hairs
kept my finger in.

Now, I open the book here
open it there
seek familiar words

The marks seem strange, meaningless:
she did
she said
she was.
She was?

I must begin again
with a blank page and fresh pen,
form new sentences
new phrases

move forward
word by word
chapter by chapter
and make my final mark.

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