This is where I was:
In the shadow of ladders,
On the trail of a black cat,
Timberless and rabbit foot free,
Although the conies were happy for me.
This is what befell:
Work took a shy at my stall,
My house was clawed back,
My father left before his time
With a fancy dressed fool on New Year’s Eve.
This is what happened:
I picked up a pen one day,
It wadded thru my margins,
Scratching signs in the fields
And swashing thought bubbles from me.
This is where I am:
A little man lives in my arms,
His eyes remind me of existence
And I will impart in whispers our
Frail fable made marble every New Year’s Day.