The Frayed Edge of Memory

So complicated
the wiring

which makes
a memory.

I remember
believing wind

was bird wings
flapping over

head and branches
lined our palms

to lead us
where we need

to be. I am older
now and less

clear on how
I came to

view this world–
the roots

of my beliefs
the sky or

water?

(originally published in Packingtown Review, Spring 2024)

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