10-Line Tuesday

April 9, 2013

reconciliation

Before the call, a letter. Before the letter,
an index finger hovered over a keyboard, on the verge
of the first word. Before that word, a thought coalescing,
a bubble of clarity rising. Before that bubble,
an itch at the neck, a tug at the stomach, some question mark
wagging its tail, obstinate as perfume. Before that perfume,
a fracture, a breakage, a story splitting itself in half, two narratives
spiraling east and west. In the end, it is the memory of wholeness
that beckons us back. And so we dive. Through the split, the question, the bubble,
the word, the letter, to the call that opens, like spring returning, with "It's me."