Thursday, January 7, 2016


Immigration checks at the borders of the new year?
I was prepared for this. Most of myself, in barrels and crates
And large shapeless bundles tied with coarse twine,
Had been smuggled across and stored as opportunity offered.
What was left was shadowy and benign; the guards
Asked for my blessing and gave me a few coins.
Some boxes of memories were lost; this always happens.
Other boxes I retrieved turned out not to be mine
So I now miss several people I’ve never met. My name
Lacks a few letters, but remains recognizable.

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