Nostos + Algos

A place

I felt at home,
and I desire completely
but can’t return to.

Entomologically

nostalgia creeps
into my memories
and into my dreams,
the places you still exist.

Fragmented and illusory.

Definitions don’t define me,
but confuse me, confine me
to torturous exploration of meaning.

We were not sustainable,
you were entertainable,

not by lute or flute
but sing bard sing.

In a cracked voice
we ended Spring
under the blaring Summer.

My ice-cream melted
into the sea
before I could eat,
as it always does.

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