The affiliate of memory

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Die is cast

thrown and tumbled

woman is born a girl

girl is born a woman

when she is young, learning to tie bows in sensible brown shoes

spit and shine, tighten pigtail, don’t get your bobby socks dirty

what does she know of her future?

when then, what hour marks, her turning, her awareness?

the tempora fragility of her succulent heart

will she be like her grandmother, a blubbering mess?

able to condone slithered evil in the hands of her husband?

look the other way, for her choices are meager

will she be like her mother, a loyal lover?

seeking a man willing to hold her closer to the sun

melt Icarus, melt, till you can stand the radiance no longer

but what of your child? The one you think is poison and deadly nightshade

what will she be like? In that wicked knowing?

when after-birth is dried and shell chewed to starlight

and she stands tall and unversed like a question mark

when she wants to scream out;

whydontyoufeellikeido?

whydontyouwanttoscreamwheneveryoneelseislaughing?

she’s the burnt slice of toast grown cold on countertop

everyone else is easy in the sun like white wheat and blackcurrant

they shine in their shingled merge

children thread their way through oboe chair-backs like grass snakes

the meadow flowers droop in her sweaty palm

she’d gift her indigo heart if it were taken or sensical

learning many years ago

don’t lend, what you can’t live without

she has enough air to fake it for fifteen minutes, then she’s out

caught in the idling headlamps of smoky cars

no destination

just drive

far

to escape those pitch eyes, drained of regard

the ease with which you are

the ease with which you are

in the loosening of your need

an affiliate of memory

put in glass jars along with sugar

watching you lean now, so evenly

toward tomorrow’s sun

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27 thoughts on “The affiliate of memory

  1. I feel so much pain in your beautiful words. There are many lines that spoke to me here but I especially like,
    “and she stands tall and unversed like a question mark”

  2. Incredible like always. I am completely convinced that one hundred years from now, future lovers of real poetry will hold cherished copies of your works.

  3. “and she stands tall and unversed like a question mark
    when she wants to scream out;
    whydontyoufeellikeido?
    whydontyouwanttoscreamwheneveryoneelseislaughing?
    she’s the burnt slice of toast grown cold on countertop”
    In these words, I see the agony and the frustration of my youth. You’ve been able to present them as if I was reliving them through your expression. Well-done, my friend! ❤

  4. Ah I think you must not read much poetry, there are far, far, far better writers that bend their pen far defter than mine. I really struggle these days I haven’t written anything I’m proud of in about 2 years but prior to that I did. I spent all AM reading submissions and there are some INCREDIBLE poets out there.

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