It is asking but I don't know how to answer.
If I can answer.
When I can answer.
It is asking but, in a language, I heard only once—years ago—in a dream.
It is asking about the missing thing.
It is asking for a name.
But do I have the right to name a thing?
Do I have the right to miss a thing I never knew, never had, never touched?
Do I have the right to answer?
I was raised to speak when spoken to.
It is asking.
I am evading.
It will keep asking.
I will keep evading.
YOU ARE READING
THE TWENTY SECOND YEAR
PoetryAt birth, we are all sentenced to life- to live. highest ranking: #4 in poembook #4 in poemcollection © z. t. corley, 2024
