8/3/12 1:30pm – 3:43pm
strand
turn the page and there it is.
a strand from a reader before myself.
a petite bookmark left waiting.
guarding where he or she last was.
only to blow away at the return of it’s rightful owner.
it’s life fulfilled where left off is picked up.
but it’s not its’ owner who is greeting.
it is only i standing in the doorway without flowers.
staring through the keyhole of a DNA footprint.
invading the privacy of a fictitious character i’ve developed.
rifling through the trash searching for the question.
the question that hasn’t caught up to the answer.
the answer that’s taken the form of
a stray weightless strand.
how easy it would be for the wind
to show it mercy.
to sentence it to gravity rather than a life spent between
spine after spine of others’ expressions.
how easy it would be for me to do the same.
i’ve yet to even read from the mattress in which it lays.
staring past all of the words that lie with arms & legs entangled beside it.
each one calling me by name, but none able to catch my eye more than the next.
out of focus extras set as a backdrop.
a strand of my own floats below to make acquaintance.
a place holder until I return.
a reminder i did not make it past the introduction?
the question catches up to the answer.