The Box Today

I opened the box today
like a room I’d not seen
before, some whisper
of past self, past meaning
and there you were
soft and yellowed lace
your words strung together
like beads on the meaning
I gave you
Some lover of an ancestor
Some long lost wish
fervid yet quaint
too polite
yet the scars of razors yet remain
but just lace now
whatever once it was wished to be
Then outside the room
the box left gently behind
I’ll stand on the cliff and watch the
the movements of numbers
patterns of stars
A fag between my fingers
at least in my head
For I’m a wicked boy
and it’s a brand new day.


December 2015


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