Saturday 8 December 2012

Mapping Myself


Why, I have forgotten much of my life,
what went before.  All those scenes
on beaches, in parks or foreign cities,
those unfathomable entanglements
with people. Great flats of my past
are deforested.

Sometimes, catching moments
of a film I’ve seen, or re-reading a poem,
I re-ink the place where it struck me
before, the same cells responding,
forming a known part of me,
briefly.

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