When I was small in my shoes
I carried tiny scraps of paper
lists in pencil fainting
where I trod ‒
listen to everyone, listen
listen, listen
(white rabbits thundering
through tunnels
telling time ‒ )
I cut the faded bits
into tiny scraps of paper
I buried them in corners
well-acquainted
with the night ‒
*
in my forties I began
to find slim volumes
in the cleft
of ancient trees.