The dulling of age


Like sea glass, smoked, etched
with years' worth of ocean breaths
before becoming sand grains

The tales penned, memories committed,
experiences assembled
before the white-out of bones

The harvest of falls
amassed goods stolen or plundered,
or lovingly gathered or even let to waste

Is the final cut, the wrinkled membrane
a shell of that unspecified desire
that brought you into being