My Untouchable Face

The effortless nature of the unreliable narrator

~ Thursday, February 23 ~

I hide in the museum of unspeakable loss
in the private treasure house
racks upon racks of jars gather light
jar of stones
jar of air
jar of stories
shaken out over all our heads
one thousand years ago
still falling
I cannot breathe
these objects
help me.

Tags: poetry spilled ink writing
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