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There will be pieces
There will be pieces when you are done.
Transgressions you made, bought or swallowed.
Faiths you professed but never really followed.
Memories you left, each a shiny puddle of mercury,
on the beach beneath the blue.
the briny blue is there too. But what memory
is this, that your running doesn't find a hall.
How will I get my diploma now?
You knew this moment and it wasn't yours.
You never saw it as an accomplishment.
To you it was as easy as falling down.
You can fall without intending it.
The Nacirema were going to be grate again.
The chaff will go through the grater and a bit later, a hater.
It is strange that we call them that since it is we who have the hating.
But I am being too generous. To find stangeness is to question.
To question means you lack faith, you can't be a True Believer.
You smell suspect. You smell, Suspect. Suspect, you stink.
Suspect, you
suspect you suspect too much. I suspect.
