he said softly, out of the dark, as if telling a dream,
or a lie, or an incantation;
as if the admission could
remake him; as if he could talk his way out of the past
and into a different story.
The strange gifts we offer
in twilight: ripped knees and hammered palms,
the chips and nicks which shape us, brutal
as fairy tales;
these remnants of memory, like
shattered bits of shell, splintered stone and bone; a trail
of lost and broken things
in the shape of ourselves.
Caron Andregg holds an MS in Television/Radio/Film from The Newhouse School (Syracuse University) and an MFA in Creative Writing from San Diego State University. Her poems have appeared in Spillway, Rattle, Poetry International, Solo, and many other journals, as well as in the anthology Line Drives: 100 Contemporary Baseball Poems. She runs a web design and marketing company with too much help from office cats.