Head of the Table


A recluse beyond obvious reason.

He was a patriarch not for obvious  reasons.

There were forevermore undisclosed moments when the past up takes matter.

Events not always on the mind…but sometimes in.

Often contained with a sustainable, selfish, stroll.

Frequently twelve steps and whiled away with letting go.

I had never been a naturally serene woman.

Love has never made the most of me.


I, have never made the most of it.

A pristine wild had been a better fit.

My deliverance someone else’s volatile art.

Emotions, vacant like tree bark.

A female symbol of shine made from the dark.

Spirit well restricted.

Hands of time…still crept in.

Mind my manners…with the head of the table.

Long ago, and far away…life support had been less able, less stable.

Stalled moments…when HE is not always…

on my mind.

But HE is in it.

Brief reflections…

when nothing.

Absolutely, nothing inside me seems to fit.



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