everything but

i’ve found everything in my heart

collecting grains of sand into a glass at the bottom

of all reason, wondering about late night music

wafting between my ears, the barbaric yells

of children, screaming in gymnasiums, memories

i’ve processed into sheet metal, planking up the sides

of a house, gleaming in the night, a beacon for

distressed sighs and thoughts of soup for chilly evenings.

It’s true.  I’m one of those curious women who’ve found

everything but their heart in this city, finding words,

finding courage, finding triumph, finding doubt, and hope,

always hope, but still, alone in my sleep, i wonder where

she has gone, and if i will ever find her.

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