Notes from Exile: Regret
Log/Verse: daily reflections from prison, written every morning at my bunk. Part poem, part log book.
Sam stayed with me for a lot of reasons. Around the same time, I asked another friend what he regretted. “Nothing,” he said. I’ve been thinking about that answer ever since.
REGRET
I have a friend I asked
what did he
regret.
Nothing he said.
How lucky I
thought.
Was his a
lie?
When I look
back,
regret is the
gate.
I only see that I
never saw,
and it was always
there,
right in front
of me.
I just couldn’t
see it.
Still can’t.
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