Cycle of Forgetting


My brain whirs when the sun goes off

and isn’t it funny

that I have always been nocturnal even when I am asleep

the loner the

lover the

one to grow at night alone

the one to build arches that stretch

toward the hibernating sun

and build nests scattered with moonlight

you will never fit into


Isn’t it funny

the only time I think of you is in bed

when that’s the last place you wanted to be


The stars think I am attuned to you

and the way time is shoved down my throat here


When I think about it I can swallow it,

a spoonful of earthquake shivering down my spine

until it becomes a part of me


I walk through the almost-fire,

the heat that chases me until I look right at it


and under these swollen memories I step

and I forget you.


I forget.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/15/20

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Starward's picture

I love the poem's phrase, The

I love the poem's phrase, The stars think I am attuned to you.  Brilliant phrase!

Enjoy effulgent days, and exquisite nights,

unto the exultations of Heaven.