thud

it’s brutal
the thud when it comes

tell me your story again
I’ve forgotten the details
and the important part
the only reason why you told me

I’ve read this book
I’ve seen this movie
but I don’t remember this bit
or this one

the repository of knowledge
has a backstairs leak
that goes unacknowledged

the strands of information
are not weaving into a coherent whole
snippets of history and theory
are not gently simmering up into soup

I left them alone to fend for themselves
but forgot to leave instructions

on a good day they play at
folding light into gestures
that point toward each other
but rarely make the distance

on a bad day they gather dust on a cold floor
lying in a jumble where they were thrown

with the occasional brutal thud
that there’s more to come