Friday, October 5, 2012

Memory



They don't remember you.

If they're even still
alive

they don't recall
you,

at all.

You: 
shadow
in the B&W background.

You:
blurred.

You:

off camera.

File finely your knives,
disconsolate one.
Keen
your long dreadful knives,
glinting in dispassionate moonlight,
whirling
whetstone wheel
glistening.

(Your memory is so
sharp.)

Grind your grievances.
Hone
those murmuring
blades.

It's not too late for a cool 
reminder.