Watermarks

if I turn left i end up near my dead mother she has a green mound but there are lots of green mounds there’s a street map in a fisherman’s pocket a splashing sea has soaked its print signs and roads melt it could be Atlantis, or maybe a bus route for north London. mind-mice remodel the big picture details defy interpretation until lost appearance and disappearances wash each other into new way signs places once left become a cardboard box in Baltimore a cement maze in Ulan Batur watermarks of places never seen until you hold them up to the light and embossed upon memory is just another road to nowhere