APRIL #10: Concealed

My diaries have been tied
with ribbon and sealed
with wax and buried
in a metal box in the garden.
Incriminating
photographs have been burned.
I washed the clothes
I wore that year
in clorox and gave them
to Goodwill. Only two
people who knew me
then are still alive.  One
is in solitary, undisclosed.
The other lives abroad,
unnamed. Funny how
the past disappears,
how one can buy
eggs and bread,
pick up the mail,
watch old movies.

How nobody remembers.
How nobody guessed.
 

A prompt poem.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.