Bits and pieces

It's not about bits and pieces,
parts and pubes, hearts
and livers, how our
physicals fit together,
or fit the pattern.
It's not about making
babies even, making
money, houses, hay.
It's not about the way
we save our souls,
declare our truths,
not about knowing
how we'll die,
who goes first,
where we'll go
or where we'll lie.
It is in part
about first desire
burnt to remembrance,
about impatience,
giving way,
sleep disturbed,
accepting mystery.
In the end
there’s nothing proven.
In the end it's all about
bits and pieces,
a shoulder lost,
eyes, a hand, a hip,
some hair once shining,
a voice once soft.

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