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the carpet tiles I am kneeling on

the imprint they leave on my knees

now gone

the ones made in paper still there

but for how long

a repertoire of materials

each chosen carefully

over time and describing a place visited

a memory of that visit

left through the presence of the material

the pink tape from North Carolina

the string from Germany

the plastic pencils

the pins

the shreds of paper

the remains of the marks made by another in pen

and then there are those marks

that leave a different trace

the brushing past a wall

touching of hands

the sound of the sweep of body on paper

they remain with me

and though i cannot see them

i feel them

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