requiem for a life

 sitting down to write

    i comb memory's 

wet hair,             on a shelf of

                coral reef,             she is kelp-

headed, it is only this deep 

            in the waters we can find 

      what we desire---       how like sleep

is a memory.             how in dreams

    we can summon 

                                images and feelings

familiar experience

                the place where knowing 

       and not knowing touch

                                            is a dream

fiction

                or autobiography? 

i ask memory,    

                            but she has sunk 

            away from me, 

                   through the blue, she's dissolved 

into daggers

        of distant starlight