mrgiles

Poems.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

2

sarah can’t quite remember
          what country she has
where her home is
     or what her parents
               if she has some
          actually do

     there’s something like a hurt of memory
               at the back of her head
     that can never quite become a thought

inside her head there is a haze as well
she sometimes can’t concentrate on the matter at hand
so halfway through washing the dishes
               or watching tv

          she’ll stop
                   dumbfounded
          looking at the hands in front of her
          wondering if they’re her own

her little house is a mess
a visitor wouldn’t know where to sit

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