PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Alex Strum

133-06



Welcome to Memory

The receptionist clicked away, typing

A victim of the shift key, push it again

She taps away and lies to herself

That she’s progressing, she’s holding onto a dream

When somewhere inside a gleam dwells

From when she was a child

Where she shed her yellow raincoat

Erupted a pair of wings and bottled the stars

Then plunging back to earth

With nothing to lose but a day of age

While grandmother speaks from the window

Of colds ne’er caught and knees ne’er scraped

Then she’s back on the seventeenth floor

With a Dell, a pile of folders, a dying daisy

And a calendar that quips “Is it Friday yet?”

Her blinded heart drips, then sinks

The last feather falls from her back