Much Less Rarely Spoke to Me

Much Less Rarely Spoke to Me, paper collage, 2022

nothing belongs to anything else
your hands aren’t 
	where they used to be 
your legs made of bridges
	a quartet, a coffee table

your mind is a paperweight
	an infantile moon
bending its eyes to the wilderness

...but the number 13
a swan on its ankles

much less
rarely spoke to
me

6 responses to “Much Less Rarely Spoke to Me”

  1. This poem and photo are deeply moving..”bending its eyes to the wilderness” is somehow a comforting line to me..in a world with such travail, the wilderness is a balm for the harsh landscape we live in..well done

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love the title. There seems to be a feeling of loss in the poem.

    your hands aren’t
    where they used to be

    and:

    much less
    rarely spoke to
    me

    All of the poem is beautifully written. And there is again something sad and mysterious going on. But I could be wrong. I enjoyed it very much.

    Liked by 1 person

    • No, I don’t think you’re wrong. When I found the phrase, “much less rarely spoke to me”, I felt that same kind of lingering, mysterious sadness, or loss. I’m really glad you enjoyed this. Thank you!

      Liked by 1 person

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