Wunderkind

A day to which I trembled

into a                      rubble 

.

The heart was laying flat

in limbo              with hails

screeching in the midst of 

a scorching          summer

.

Forty forget me      nots

tying to my soul’s knots

.

January in          cyanotype

the fourth be without you—

in lithography:

how do I capture what’s 

already gone?

.

Stewing on a    linear

falseness — the past

has lost its mind —

I blame       dementia 

or else             simply

I just didn’t take the same form 

as the portrait of me in

your old life’s home 

.

Very well — I will scold &

roast my own  existence 

since the recollection of

it remains bound only to me

. 

I hear thunder brewing &

smouldering      all  over

my nameless grief 

.

Let me combust            into

another particles elsewhere 

as there’s        no more use 

to be scattered    in a matte

or a glossy lenticular acrylic 

when I am but an irretrievable

daguerreotype —

.