Thursday, September 18, 2014


Memory is funny
ask me, I will recall  history
broken into little mini-chips
like a puzzle, a picture complete
We remember what we cannot overlook
a scent lingering, a pressed rose, a word
promises of the same result
one end and a few clues for
memory. It is funny what you can recall
when you least expect-
impatient remembrance,
is a long story like
 you and
what I now call me,
It rings in my head, words, instructions I give to you like begging
remember to call me when you fall
just moments before you break
remember to allocate me a space between the fold of your eyelid
and its opening
isn't this what romantics do? fear for the heart they discovered
walking out of their chest?
remember I am made of blood and bones too-
Do you remember the summertime?, the prime?
 I now gather the remains of broken fusions of images, ours
like the moon gathers the tide
We are what we keep
mottoes, sticks and stones, favorite thread loose blouses
and heavier things: things unspeakable, things inaccessible
we are our memories
because we now can no longer be anything else-
and as I sit and marvel
I turn to where you once sat,
asking you like the wind that bangs your eardrums
Do you remember
 the picture I gave you?
You must
because that picture I left,
is where I smiled last.

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