“Stripped of Memory”
The memory of this place consigns its pain to me
A bunch of grapes plucked off,
Empty sprigs form quiet stress
Place-holding taunts and barbs,
The burnt toast ghost of treasured anticipation
Who will remember what I can’t?
When I can no longer bear witness
Such is the narrative:
A leaf blows off a bridge
After having been stuck
And dances the air
Until it comes to float on restless waters
Carried away to be counted among other forgetful forgottens
