poem: ship of theseus

there’s a messy verge — to conduct through the past lush/heat
and moans against the chair, how much reanimates, how much
comes into me, felt again — now the narrative has softened, we make
plans to drive out of town and drink tonight, ice cream
pints; somenight the new-word in my lap will remake — division of
time, i learned which hobbies i loved when potential performance
cut away all other validations. lonely girl in hell-job in basement room,
childhood bed, grey square of grass. when my archetype
changes, will my face switch off to new body — or will the inverse —
take place, or will it be a slow, total change; someday she is
re-using old poems and her hands are new. how does the narrative, keep–
five old pains, wretched open to immortality, if he cannot be slandered —
if he keeps, sweet and asleep, around my shoulders.
emotions versus feeling, another anon brought the shroud – new manifesto
to replace, internal rhymed idealism, now the confusion of how
to go forward — to keep the form when the internal changes.