Book Report

The words crumble into sand
before I can cement their meaning.
I’ll never see the finished product.
Whether a post-modern mansion, a tower rising past the clouds
or a penitentiary, it shall remain a puzzle I no longer want to solve.
My mind is fractured from trying to sweep the grains together
and assemble a stable structure without a pattern; I'm hungry
with an appetite that can’t be sated with sour crumbs buried in debris.


* Roberta Swetlow attempts to make sense of life from Regina, Saskatchewan, with assistance and frustration from her husband, cat, and adult offspring.