Returning to the place of your origin has a way
of equivocating on the things you’d say meant
little - although in retrospect that is metaphoric
bullshit while you whittle away at memories as
if to whit they’re th’ guilty party; you’d never be
remembering them if their pertinence wasn’t in
-camera - you didn’t need the correspondence
there again to recreate this time and place
And it is still the same - although bare of those
structures which tamed the land filling this tiny
space benevolently; but you could see it in the
perspective of its heyday when a little man lay
enamoured at the breast of his beginnings - &
was freed in all respects to grow up and leave
© 19 August 2016, I. D. Carswell 
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