itʻs all the all the rage now -
(itʻs not as if you died, i just forgot . . .)
(a response to “Image Prompt #7”)
simplify
subtract
sublime
so many things
unread books,
worn-out clothes,
stash of pencils
poking accusingly at me
stamps, stuck together
(i hear a voice, “you never write”)
forty year-old flash cards
(flash cards? really? does anyone even know what those are??? )
a pencil sharpener,
spilling ancient slivers of frustration, concentration, inspiration
unused now, sulking, beside its aforementioned pointedly accusatory companions
(funny, i swear i used to hear them scream as he chewed them, shorter and shorter)
on and on
deeper into the layers
dusty memories
detached, from my retina of
daily seeing,
folders, boxes, gift wrapping
scissors
scotch tape
string of every possible kind
here, old christmas cards,
remnants of a time before i started saying,
“Happy Holidays”
behind them . . .
an ebony duck?
(i guess even those that steal childhood from you
guiltily
can leave a trace of innocence
as if to plead
“can you forgive?”)
that one goes in my pocket
cardboard box
redolent of
recollections
remin -
turn the cover slowly
a christmas,
you, and i
stare back
into the lens of their future
(and why the third person? wasnʻt i there?)
they hug, awkward
even before school reminded
(surely, she already knew?)
her
to be scared of hands
and words
and worse
voices, telling
she,
(no, me,
no
where
to hide)
to hug,
angry hands
yanking arms
to the requisite angles
of attachment
affording
an aperture
for the
shot
this sinking pit
sucks me in
(i fall
the deep hole)
itʻs all the rage now.
This is a response to the Imagà Imaginings prompt by
Shirley Jimenez.
