The truth

the truth

admit your flaws

and i will open the book

of my weaknesses. tell me

your story, as you best remember:

an unlit path you walked along

once, midnight through the park

and someone was crying for help.

did you turn a deaf ear, throw

the last stone, or perhaps hold out

 a paddle to the child turning 

 circles in the current of the
 river? a trail drives me back

further than memory.  i pick

my version, all that is left

of the facts.

-  miriam