Tuesday, March 17, 2026

poem

 The Curator

The way the person you love

Is usually only the parts 

You still remember


Distillation being one 

Of the cruel necessities 

For coiled existences


Which is a polite way

Of saying elimination

Sharpens the edges of love 


There are others who insist

Love hides in the lapses

Lost in the folds of forgetfulness 


I'm one of the curators 

Of a dulled world, utterly convinced 

It exists, out there, on the other side of me


Every day it’s the same old task:

Arrange a series of selected scenes

Into vaguely harmonious compositions


I told you I lack even

A sliver of self-respect

A blip on a vast black screen 


As if it were up to me

Whether you stop and notice

This silly little creation


I’ve so painstakingly honed.

Look! I made it for you!

As if it could be owned.


But how did you even get here?

Wrong turn at the last light

And all you ever saw was me


What a fool I’ve been—

All this time 

I only had to invite you in 


3/17/26

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