“Legacies” by Rachel Brower

Let it be you;
make me immortal.
Remember some pattern,
a flash now and then
to exhume any truth.

Here
trying to capture
transient bits
of so many souls.

Him me you:
the harshest critics.

Words;
in pieces they would be,
fluttered and strewn
amongst other debris.

"One man's Junk",
so they always say;
transformed
most hopefully
outside these mere borders
through collective ether
that we all succor.