dbb8e6a2f03166ae5c27a2b3bce546d4She told me

it is written

memory controls pain

once forgotten it takes a mountain

to revisit it again

or a certain pair of eyes

that retracing back

remind you of the eyes you loved

when you were youthful, fat on luck

and she did not have what it took to

return the emotion

she told me

it is written

memory controls pain

you can rinse out your glass

dry it in the hot Texan air

smelling of ancho chile and fertilizer

and it will not sprout again

until you are ready to expunge the day

start over with blank slate

she said this

because it was her way

to forget what she needed

rewind the silky tape

press erase

and I did not share this propensity

nor was I able

to shine her out of my hide

she had grown long claws

they stitched inside the cry

we both denied

in our modest pin tuck blouses

and matching bobby socks

turned down once

a slight lemon frill

sensible and cloaked

the passion stucco and quiet

tasted like strawberries

fermented in hot palms

drunk over crushed ice

15 thoughts on “Fermented

  1. Many a visit to the fermenting concoctions of life…that come in so many rainbow of flavors and tastes… some bitter…some sweet….some you steer clear of lest you imbibe too much bringing you your knees retching wondering you didn’t stop three drinks ago…. 🙂 lovely piece Ms C…. thank you for a nice read on the certain analogies to life and relationships…..xx

  2. This is fascinating. Dont know if thats the right word….made me really think,whatever word fits that 🙂

Comments are closed.