Treasure Island

RIC S. BASTASA


Frammento


A fragment is something incomplete
Something broken-off, severed,
Detached, segregated,

A fragment of a conversation,
Extant fragments of an ancient
Document written on stone,
A fragment of my poetry,

How

do


i

say


it?

………………………………….
Some fragments of myself
Missing some fragments of
Myself hidden, and you will
Not find them, too many fragments
like lice in a native woman's
hair spreading on her head

I place them where
You cannot find them because
You presume too much
To know me to love me,

Along this line, so many parts
are detached, perhaps my navel

my mole, my thumb
my right ear, my left eye

So many parts severed, perhaps
My head from my heart
my mind from my soul

my past from my future

Some extant fragments of
My past self, written on some
Stones still unturned, yes

I have pretended so much
And you cannot detect
Which is true from false

i have become so many parts
of myself, now in the last hours

fragmented

wanting to be whole again..

Submitted: Sunday, April 20, 2008
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