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by Rob Littler

I marvel at the way
Memory comes rushing
In suddenly making genuine
Any fleeting nostalgia:
A song plays on a transistor
Radio and I am gone, lapsing
Into the specificity
Of a moment, as a young child
Headlong, tipping into periphery—
Time bends becoming now and not
Now. Then flutters back again
And I am giving away my ancient
Heart. I am shedding the part
I play with skin and bone.
Homelessness can become a new home.


Posted on 05/11/2012
Copyright © 2021 Rob Littler

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Alison McKenzie on 05/28/12 at 02:43 AM

Brutal? It's beautiful, just as it is. Time bends and homelessness - two concepts that are, suddenly, no longer entities unto only themselves. Music holds that time travel magic in its very core! And you've described it here beautifully!!

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