I have been plucking emptiness tonight.
I leapt a decade today; spring-cleaning
fourteen years of dust caked memories
I never otherwise discarded
believing they were in some way tied
to a magic of time turning,
but fourteen years of allowing flakes
of texts, notes and academic trajectories
grow into piles of amassing sloth,
I would watch my large black files wilt
from its handling into boxes first,
plastic bags next, promising
to visit them ‘one day’ when I’d
have no other diversions, keeping
them waiting, and finally turning
yellow, as did my time. Not knowing
how to revive the voices in the words,
I tried smelling them alive,
but the fading evidences of my past
wouldn’t resuscitate –
dust wiped clean,
no more clutter,
it doesn’t feel like spring.
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