streaming words

Standard

I look back

At all the words.

 

Streaming through me

Like

A memory I’m allowed

To keep.

 

And that’s just it.

 

I could never keep those

Words.

 

They flew from me, both

In anguish

And

In ecstasy

 

And continued to fly.

 

 

I literally threw away

Dozens

Of journals,

 

(all those words

framing me)

 

yearbooks

textbooks from my Master’s in…

classes.

 

all those words

all the framing

 

and what stuns me

is that I am

 

not allowed to keep;

hold on to;

what I write

 

regardless of whether

it’s been trashed

or praised.

 

Because the words

That I write

 

(that poem about the girl at the bottom of the sea?

Covering the hole?)

 

Frame me.

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