How they are born, these writes
A family portrait, I had wanted to call it
at the time – just for laughs. Haha.
Or maybe The Family That Never Was –
the nuclear thing hammered out of existence
by who knows what. We sprung apart is all I know
a million million years ago.
At least that was the first rush
finding those three snaps –
different times – even different places –
but the knowing sat in my belly, so to speak
for an undetermined while.
It took a child’s scribble –
intertwined creatures –
monster limbs, yet so human –
for the quark that had flashed on the screen
of my mind to find its deeper meaning –
the one that finally ends up as syllables
with line breaks