escher poetry — [ζ] :: 5

returning to the ruins of my youth
torn down castles of young arrogance
distorted memories in vines
turning the non–existent
into clarity of false truth

all i really have are not the precise bricks
tumbled by erosion
but the memory of feeling
tentacled to presence
joy of unexpected recognition

and today
my wife is in a land elsewhere
ill
food poisoning

we agreed to the distance of weeks
never expecting