unfamiliar faces are made abstract by
developing camera technology. One
is probably mine, now a stranger.
Each cell of my body has died
and been reborn in the years since.
I have cleaned grey shavings of my
skin from shelves with a yellow cloth.
I am nothing more than a sand storm
thrown together by accidental currents,
thinking itself to be unified as most
of the cloud is forced forward by winds,
whilst specks drift and drop like snow onto
the roofs, the roads, the waiting ground.
In this photo on the timeline, you see them,
parts of personality left behind and discarded,
particles becoming blurred spots on the lens.
Prompt was “Redo- a poem of recreation, change and makeovers” from the poetry at the time of being alone group. Not super happy with this one but tomorrow is another day.