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Let Them Not Be Forgot
Rubber shaving are collected in plastic bags
Grey, rolled slithers of lead and words and
Birds in flight over skies of bleached white, lined
with blue traffic indicators of where to go -
Suggestions that have been ignored -
Implications forgotten, flight path replete with defiance and scrawls;
Scrawls of expression and freedom and thoughts
That have been rubbed out.
They leave traces;
A crease in the landscape they inhabited momentarily
as they gripped clawed talons onto the edges and bent them to form
new shred-shapes and motion where once all was still;
Shadows of themselves, their being etched
Into place, into space; into the flattened depth of the page;
Dark smudges where they tried to escape
And were caught
And were bled
Bits of themselves that remain
In striken smears upon the white and in the fingerprints of theirs,
To Be Identified
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