Talking to the past is as good as reading fiction
My hand is tethered
to vellum and stained
a favored drawing ink: sepia.
New is old and old is renewed.
Scars are imprinted
on so many onion skins —
a bibliography was consulted.
(But the wrong records were retained.)
Fold my fingers
over yours — as dry as bark —
drape an arm. Tonnage of years
moldering [...]

