Theories of Personal Identity by Jan Zwicky

The photograph;
the past life;
the long lost
black sheep who’s become
the shoe that fits.
The ghost town,
a.k.a. the rummage bin,
that old sweet song.
The suitcase; the hotel 
room; the surprise 
box lunch; the plain 
brown wrapper. The umbrella 
someone opened in the house.  
The alphabet, or perhaps 
I mean a river, or a well.  
The skeleton in the closet.
The writing on the wall.
The telltale heart.

~ from Robinson’s Crossing (Brick Books, 2004)