Fragmented

As children we formed
inarticulate seraphs
     another cold, Indiana morning -



Behind the walls of memory, clowns paint their faces
At home, the
    hidden



Sisters and brothers,
the story is finished
    not completed



And I cannot release you
from what comes
    any more than then



No matter how many times I write
the happened to
    of us



None have changed
    The words line up, cringe
dutifully