maybe i don’t remember the interim
the place where dark and light
stayed separate
there must have been times when we were whole
and the world shined in the sun,
a plastic toy bathed by the dewy grass.
but now when i think back all i recall
is the merging, shifting, nights when
the morning came too soon
before i had a chance to cry myself
to sleep. and the times when things fell
apart into their elements: music
became sound and silence, poems jumbles
of gray letters on gray paper, every action
reversing its coalescence into elation or heartbreak,
then nothing.
By Anna Leah Lacoss