trans-generational full stop

heir to 老妈’s gold bracelet,
now I cannot reject
the whole box set of
fear and flaw, from unit to unit creating
circulation — this starting piece;
that flash rising from wrist end,
strict and continuous.

how weird to be end of the mother line,
who all scrubbed through time, consequently effaced,
whose knowledge did not die.
the one gold hook, I can only
wait to know,
wait to catch, and the catch
not further but seal

history.

in the end, this is only another ritual
to amend and begin
for no one:
for the dogs, who don’t wear bracelets,
who love and love and die.

so birther of generations,
in making, you made the last;
left the gold as one day
you will leave the line
hanging——————dead, at least, to the knowledge

I cannot answer it.