If all narrative is a fiction
because it must be constructed,

what is the story we've been telling
about ourselves and the world
all this time?

With all who came before me
now gone into their own

I sift through fragments.
They're gone, everyone
who I might have asked

to tell me a story.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.