memory

parallel to the everyday

a constant slideshow 

of past afternoons 

of rainy windows elsewhere

of a well being now floating directionless

of smells

of a small kitchen

of a sense of belonging

of little pains 

of big questions

a constant movie

playing in the background of my thoughts

of instants 

long

short

important

now lost

last resort

when all that is left

is a vague hope 

that words will curate memory and imagination

when metaphors are the only passage

to sense 

to acceptance

when love and beauty

retreat into disbelief 

yes...

poetry is the last resort

ships

with all they brought

and all I kept inside them

friend-ship

companion-ship

sink