Homespun

The things you can imagine
Are almost your past but slim,
Vetted, deboned, the long odds

Against what you can imagine
Removed, so that you can see
Dreams glistening and gathered,

All the implausible cuts
Bundled together in place
As the mind’s hands are trembling

With the effort to hold them,
Just them, thin-sliced memories
To be woven in ribbons

To thread the next narrative
Of more unlikely monsters.