twist home

Sometimes on the days
that precede
anniversary dates
of things that happened to me,
or i happened to,
i am noticeably twinged,
unmistakably lonely,
for what?

I know

today, i realize,
was the ten-year anniversary
of flying home from Vancouver,
the first time,
hat in hand.
And when I picked up the phone nobody answered it,
and it took me
ten years to get from there to here.

I won’t dismiss
or forsake,
speak lowly of,
or speak at all.
I have no answers and wish for many;
I still consider that
to having some
and refusing more.


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