On Memory
Because today, the leaves of the black walnut tree flicker a new season’s chartreuse,Because the pelts of both my cats gleam with the sheen of cherishment,Because Halloween-cobweb clouds in the blue blue blue blue blue,Because today, the only thing that aches is my left ring-finger, above the severed wrist tendonbunched inside my palm,I’m convinced I had an idyllic childhood.
And because today I got a text from my friend – his accent,even texting, is sugarcane and Homer and midnight fish and a long,shy weariness – and because he said that he’s good and his little daughter, also good,and he can’t believe it’s been so long since we were last across a cocktail from each other,I believe the world has been kinder than I’ve deserved.
If you asked me…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, November/December 2024