memory returns

i found myself in the back of a hospital

tossed with the spent sheets, the crinkle

of sterilized plastic

the incinerator

coughing in fits and starts

i am lucky

no one has ever known

how to handle me,

my despair incongruent

with youth

enough to make

a graveyard retch

rain drizzled moonburst caramelized plaited sky

the air has seen worse

than a boy-girl

clutching a circlet of vines

to their chest

living in the hollow

of an oak tree, stuffing the gaps

with moss

light, only ever the lance

of absence

memory returns, by ethan j. murray