CF (March 20 1955 / fairmont west virginia)

Paper Cache

A cardboard box of evidence accosts
my craven past, incites a raw review
of those omissions I repent the most:
not what I did, but what I did not do.

A cache of lilac-colored letters tossed
aside show the seasons when I withdrew
from risks of mellow heart—upbraiding ghosts:
not what I did, but what I did not do.

A plotted map and snapshots with dulled gloss
speak slender words I never shared with you:
I stand arraigned for self-inflicted loss,
not for what I did, but what I did not do.

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Comments (2)

My oldest daughter already gets the comments on how much she looks like me....oh boy, does that make her day! Maybe one day she'll smile over it as you have. But it may take awhile. Wonderful poem! Sincerely, Mary
I have already Cora, it's an amazing realization, suddenly there she is again, back from the 'dead' so to speak. I always thought I looked more like my Father, but suddenly truth will out. Lovely poem, lovely story. Love Ernestine XXX