TO YOU THROUGH ME

TO YOU THROUGH ME

have to confess
to not being
supremely invested
in anything

birth death cycles
blind repetition
in perpetuity

my eyes opening
for that first time
learning to ride my
bicycle
in the cemetery

doomed to retirn to re-
learn as if
on some Escher loop
believing I have
duly departed
but here
I am
returning again
and again

finding my way back
to the graves
I do remember and
each tiny
funeral chapel.

much hidden history
in every
      minor variation on
pretty standard epigraph

taking them on board
as I free wheel along
the lanes
    between the graves

and here I ask you
as you, and indeed
my sister
   ride alongside me

to define, via differentiation,
what penetrates
and, there again,
what remains

taking a deep long draw upon
that cold Northern air
as it comes
to you exactly, if things
should vanish,
happen
   to burn, if smoke recalls,
does at all remember
.
a complete, and, yes, complicated
tapestry
    we all swore to finish
but never do

and me thrown by
the strangeness of each
and every queation
                      unsure as to

where they
came from

and how could possibly
                   find their way.
to you
   through me