blank slate

blank slate, lost poems to the storm
got no stitches left, nor glue
only heartworn, torn covers
the table of contents once encompassed all
stays vacant, stanzas collapsed by the fjords
of a heartless sea, the landscape once altered by charcoal
lies inanimate, lines eroded on the banks
of sorrow, the river once flowed like time
rages fierce, syllables crumbled at the kitchen
of a café, the index once listed mental pictures
vows silence, sounds lingered at the tip
of my tongue,
nothing rhymes anymore.