I live in what I give away:
in photos, flowers, polished stones,
a book or ring, a porcelain trinket,
a figurine of which I say,
This oneís my favorite, but it means
much more to me for you to have it.
But also in the time I give,
to listen, try to understand
everything time takes: the flower,
the photo of a relative,
the polish on the stone, a friend,
a pledge and ring that slips the finger.
And finally even how I live,
till Iím afraid to give away
what, for tomorrow, I should keep:
some memory of those who leave,
some token that recalls the way
to stop this dying in my sleep.
Michael T. Young
Transcriptions of Daylight, Rattapallax
Press, © 2000; originally printed in The Lyric.
Reprinted by permission of the author.