*Go back*

Go back, you thought,
if only I could go back.

Where would you start,
if you could? To the moment
it all went wrong,
to when it all went right?
At the beginning, at the seed,
at the heart’s first beat?

Remembering
will be enough for me
in this one time game.

 

Capture

A poem is like the photograph
that captures the soul
of it’s subject.

Out goes the fire,
out the breath,
leaving ashes on the hearth.

Writing’s a destructive endeavor,
once written, forever gone:
the snare of
putting down words.