Something about
losing small pieces –
an errant tooth,
the color in my hair,
the smell of autumn as
father held my hand,
fading vision /
a kidney butchered
under failing hands,
and
time
a butterfly
flapping backward
through time,
wrapping itself in strands
fading memories
wandering banter
stolen kisses amongst the shrubbery,
the illicit touch
bare skinned thigh
sweet honey,
do you remember
kneeling as voices passed close by,
my sigh?
the
cocoon wrapping
strand
upon
strand
time
that takes us,
piece by piece,
strand by strand
a caterpillar
arching backwards
Writer Moe 