written while contemplating images of my son at 25… i have not seen him since he was 11.
you know that feeling
like you’ve lost something
but you can’t remember enough of it
to know what it is?
marbles scattered on the seashore
hands and knees, scrabbling, looking
but no pockets
can’t hold them all
how to choose?
that, there, oh that’s a favorite
have to have that one
and another, and another, until
no, can’t pick that one up
unless
well, this one isn’t really beautiful
maybe
wait, there it is
the one that’s the color
of his eyes
must
lust
dust
i’d drop them all for that one
and have
marbles scattered on the seashore
you know that feeling?