Gifts
Kirk Wilson
I kept my life in a small room
with pale blue walls
and brought it back
little presents from the world
This is for you I would say
This is for you
Sometimes the gifts
died in my hands
and often I could not pay
the price of their redemption
I could never be sure
they were appreciated or how much
they wanted to be in the place
where I had brought them
The room filled with less and less
space to breathe so instead of gifts
I began to bring stories
that did not end but slipped away
around corners and over horizons
I brought premonitions
and resistance to closure and left
at the end of each day
looking for more
