How to Disappear

The red chair remains there,
in the porch room. My blood still
on it. Two cushioned wings

that you could disappear in
if you pretended to be air.

What hiding place now
can equal its value?

The mind has forgotten how
to be quiet and vanish. It has
deserted its magic.

I should have disappeared
in that chair when my talents

were useful.

1 comment:

RachelW said...

Beautiful... I read both desolation and belonging in this one. Masterfully done.