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My own memory as remembered words

linked verbal echoes

Heard ever when not listening -

And I danced to the echoes

and those yet echoed still.

The beat was a lost one,

My feet were weight and forever missed - I

lurched toward memory like one maimed.

My wing only brought me spiraling round

to the present over and over and

I inverted and practiced memorizing my

forgotten self.

I braided patience into every missed step

Tied it with satin and was called

beautiful.

Tied it

Tied me

And I was called beautiful

And I was a missed step.

safe in the place without.

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