Spurensuche | a poem

over time all memories

led straight to your death

*

I rethink and retrace our lives

trying to come up with a different conclusion

I won’t find peace in an illusion

*

the ending is not the point

*

I stepped in a theatre today

and the first prop that caught my eye

was a coffin onstage

*

and I fell back into the hole you cratered

the ending is a guillotine

*

trauma doesn’t know what time it is