Strips of cloth
Old metal in the sun
Passages in winter
Paper I've written on.
The wood is worn
Foundation from an old demolition
Carved in time from my family's soul,
Something that was in my mind
I did not know.
There are many things to say
When the pants fit
To use an old shoe to stop a door.
Once, when I was young
I met Frida Kahlo;
Today, I saw her picture.
When everything speaks together.
