Cans and Boxes

Submissions

We have ghosts in our hands and our eyes
In our legs
The way we walk –
It’s no surprise we’re haunted

Piece by piece
Block by block
History taunts the fragile ones
What’s begun here isn’t our fault
But it beats us down

We have ghosts in our minds
And our hearts
There is a me
Unburdened by our father’s fathers
A me
That exists beyond this business

I’ll cast this off
With a roar that starts low
Until it shakes the pictures off the walls
And sheds our old skin, diagnoses and histories.

I’ll teach us to untie each other