Paris Burning
I write words to speak to you;
I know not how or who else
I can tell this to:
of the fragments that make you
and undo your vision, too.
The shrapnel in my eyes,
ears, nose and hands -
The order I was shot
I forget, and yet,
reflecting,
it blazes before me again.
I decode them here;
I deconstruct
into abstractions
to get to the heart.
