Recordkeeper

Recordkeeper

Every year, more of some things,
less of others. The body saying
no, I don’t need this piece now,
or hunger, capturing flags, gulping
them down. The thumbnail taken by
the car door does not grow back
when you expect it, and when it
does, its face is warped, mottled.
Inside, a record, a ledger. A being
to keep track. If you have heard
the sound of your eyelid opening,
you have actually heard the nib
of a pen scratching out how it all
gets spent.




Further Reading: 
What a Camera Means to a Person's Life
Undertown