A day to which I trembled
into a rubble
.
The heart was laying flat
in limbo with hails
screeching in the midst of
a scorching summer
.
Forty forget me nots
tying to my soul’s knots
.
January in cyanotype
the fourth be without you—
in lithography:
how do I capture what’s
already gone?
.
Stewing on a linear
falseness — the past
has lost its mind —
I blame dementia
or else simply
I just didn’t take the same form
as the portrait of me in
your old life’s home
.
Very well — I will scold &
roast my own existence
since the recollection of
it remains bound only to me
.
I hear thunder brewing &
smouldering all over
my nameless grief
.
Let me combust into
another particles elsewhere
as there’s no more use
to be scattered in a matte
or a glossy lenticular acrylic
when I am but an irretrievable
daguerreotype —
.
D C de Oliveira | Ki-taku-aroha XXIII | January 4, 2023 | Wednesday, 6.47pm















