Why I am unimaginable
these days —

appearing whole to myself in no mirrors,
neither literal nor figurative;

merely an apparition when in person,
an uncertain wisp to some, dismissed

entirely by others.
All I can think of, really,

is the discomfort I feel
in various parts of the body,

the structure I used to feel
was a grand little house.

The creaking these days
from the corners and the eaves

drowns out any clear being
in the decay. Somehow I’m still here

but undiscoverable right now.
Disintegration; not showing as whole.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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