1/1/2001: Instead of the Resolutions

will she know me
the pouting girl with the braids
tied with the trimmings of a curtain,
will she recognize me
the girl crying among the flowers
behind the house,
and if i go
a is a o is o
that is really all I know
will she hear the code
of a sunny afternoon happy on a swing…
will she look me in the eye
and sit there, little and frightened
or maybe angry
and demand the return of
the words the colours and the songs
she once lent me
in good faith of a wide-eyed child
the words the colours and the songs
which i left out in the rain
carelessly
left them sad and misused
to rust and rot and fester
with betrayal…

maybe if i tell her
that i am starting today
that i am piecing the parts together
that i am coming out from behind my brow
and trying really trying
to open that door
maybe she’ll smile and wave
among the flowers.