tracing torn edges of a map
dreams once folded in coat pockets
creased, smudged
ink bleeding
like the memory of past lives

the house is too quiet
the clink of a spoon in a chipped mug
toy animals sleeping in a line
my daughter hums a lullaby she made up
for a world I’m still learning to believe in

their laughter once lived in my chest
a sound I wore like sunlight
some days feel like a locked gate
rusted shut
in a state I never meant to stay in

like pulling the thread from a sweater
i wrapped too tightly around a dream
releasing the string of a kite
paper boats
carried downstream

i teach her to build castles from stones
beneath the rubble
of what almost was