Kit Kelen #615 - those who are not

615

those who are not

are most with us

at times

we wonder what they’ve meant

those simply not

how are they gone?

we wonder where

but why?

they are made of paper for me

elsewhere feather light

I doubt the wings

some days all claws

just the one mouse

and who’s chasing whom?

we call them up

not all of the gone are dead

the dead who won’t go are all about us

they’re the angel/demon dust

the short and curlies stood on end

even this must be doubted

the world expanded and it shrank

we never reach a perfect score

we are node in their sub terrain

are they beyond the itch and ache

smell of all the days passed here?

you have to wonder smoke is gone

we find them at an old address

number a digit short by this time

those absented

for whom we are here

what’s love to them

but we were meant

or maybe unintended?

they are not responsible now

we hunt the generations down

at last come to ourselves

we never leave a silence perfect

but orchestrate a score

and here among the living –

a chatter

this crystal necessity

deep in which

we take

some first few steps

of the dance