Anamnesis

She stepped out of her skin that day,
into the land beyond her loyalty.
There were no idols,
and the practices of sun-worshipping and stargazing
fell from the atomic table of singularity.

This was her 17th incarnation as a clone,
and her involution had been coalescing
as if a planetary storm was brewing.
She placed all her memories in a basket,
marked hers and pulled out runes, one by one.

No one knows
what fate befell her,
and no one knows
who found her skin and wears it now.