Friday, March 29, 2013


 Spoken--a word implicit.
A concept--broken.
A token, dropped
In the machine--
Time's up.
I have proven over
And again, I am
Tougher than I seem--
A fool still, hopeful.
And you never say
You grant me equal credibility
Or similar delusions.
To believe everything
You say--how can
I give you what I am not given?
But I do--
I would, and I will.
And I let you
Keep pieces of me
Locked, keyed to you
Secretly--only I
Can no longer
Be sure of finding them--
You will tell me,
I or you
Right or wrong.
And this new
Revisionist me
Wants only to be right
And for you to know.

Copyright © 1997 by Katherine Foreman.

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