A PAPER CROWN

Not so much memories of a lifetime
as some kind of collage. Not even
a collage, more just bits of paper
propped up, shoved awkwardly together

like strangers at a party. Who's got time
to get out glue and scissors? Much easier
to shuffle things around and try to make
something you can live with, even

if nobody could live here: the bastion
tumbled to the ground, the lighthouse
that emits no light so little wonder
all this stuff is crashed up here together

like wreckage from a ship, like plunder.
Here's all the houses that I ever lived in
but can't remember now. Here's a paper crown
bigger than the whole world, to stand

for my lost dreams. Here's a tiny figure,
one-dimensional, crouched beneath a wall.
It's probably me although I can't be sure.