03 October 2012



Should I take the cause of
what or who I am to be as
gauze of latter days events,

whether wrapped according
lore or dressed in passé jeans
of legendary haute couture

or naked as the babe who’s
tossed its handsome clothes
and runs now fancy free –

where signs insist without a
doubt you’re from this place
because it makes such sense

that is than being fenced less
space to keep your comforts
housed in social harmony

but halt, I say, I wasn’t made by
clothes or places lived or even those
geographies we’ve dream about

I’m more than simple sum of
things you tell as me, I am sure
of it – or was until we passed

the last disparagement: they
weren’t my rules of any chore to
come but just another game
© 22 August 2012, I. D. Carswell