August 29, 2013


I've been trapped
by my youth in a box, 
filled with photos 
looking vaguely like me,
college papers long ignored,
old yearbooks no one reads.

It's held me in check
without my knowing,
submerged in a drawer
until this morning,
like some bulging catch
dredged up onto the deck,
spilled out writhing
across the floor.

To move on 
I must accept
what I'm allowed to keep,
what to throw back
as still too young,
not yet ready to stir me
from my deepest sleep.