On Layers

Layers (photo by Enuma Okoro)

 

When it doesn’t fit anymore I hold on

for old times sake, to make meaning when maybe the season for meaning

is gone.

When it doesn’t fit anymore I sit still

for a while, and feel

my heart curl in upon itself with the old sorrow. It can feel

so new. When it doesn’t fit any…

more.

When it doesn’t fit anymore I fray at my edges

for old times sake

For all those times I tried to make it fit.

For all those times I knew

It was supposed to fit.

When it doesn’t fit anymore I weep maybe

to shrink it more, the size of it.

How can something so large have never fit?

How can something that never fit

have so many layers to shed?