history book in our spine

a poem every direction:

wish you were here

here wish you were

were here wish you

you were here wish

a direction: every poem

*

i worry that history

has narrowed its focus on me

and will one day be called back

by the vindication of my flesh

a child caught up in the decisions i’ve made

who will say

what were you doing

what were you doing

and like them

memorizing the dates

for no other reason than marks

i’ll say

trying to make sense of it all

before i remarked

but it was too confusing

and i was too tired

and it was only going to be was

someday like today

and the history i studied

wasn’t it

and they’ll go away into the book too

with what was done

but inevitably

what wasn’t

*

the tears left

but the sadness remains

floating

unable to drown

watching me dissolve

in me