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Compost

Already my face

has turned darker

Under this blanket

I am growing

richer

more intense

Tucked away

my body darkens

around me like an

old apple around

its core

Buried in a dream

of odds and ends

I am a lost-

and-found where

silence claims

everything

All over this

tiny landscape

of my life

is strewn

scraps of me

My voice

my name

my breath

being worked into

something else

Soon I will be

so fine that

I will be a

mere thought

translated

into another

language

Slowly I return

to my life

what I

take from it

 




Fredric Matteson (CCT Founder)

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