without dismissal
1.
I am your opus,
your final creation,
an abstraction
from acts of love or anger.
it was accidental
without dismissal.
2.
how do the mute seek absolution
in anonymity,
how are curtains drawn against Johari,
freedom exhausts itself drawn in circles,
concentric and misleading, misled.
I am your opus,
your final creation,
an abstraction
from acts of love or anger.
it was accidental
without dismissal.
3.
the scars are there, mine
imbalances accounted for, mine
glass walls firmly held in situ
but cleaned.
the stale air loosening.
4.
I am number three, four if your must know.
but I deny one as I am not denied;
bearing witness wasn’t easy but I never turned;
now bearing the marks of each life I saw took.
I am your opus,
your final creation,
an abstraction
from acts of love or anger.
it was accidental
without dismissal.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 