photo: sharon auberle
Forgotten
by
Bruce Dethlefsen
I
will always forget you
you’re
the first person I forget
each
morning and the last
one
I recall at night
I
will never remember you
wearing
that blue maybe green dress
walking
you home from high school
joking
about some mounted
squirrels
or perhaps rabbits
the
laughing bowling alley windows
prospect montgall
agnes bellefontaine
I
forget each street by street
your
whispering hair
why
must I remember
your
beagle named binky
or
your beat cop father
charlie
who drank too much
to
forget to sleep
I
can’t recall at all
who
kissed who first
or
was it whom
by
the swings at brush creek park
in
the light in the dark in the light
as
I remember you were sunshine
on
the lilac leaves the breeze
through
those forget-me-nots
all
that and so much less
imagine
the number of times
I’ve
forgotten every inch of you
discovering
electricity over and over
just
by touching your hand
your
whispering hair
your
eyes your name that smile
I
forget it all
as
if it were only yesterday
and
of course your whispering hair
there
there don’t forget
it’s
all forgotten
all
forgotten now once more
~
previously published in Unexpected Shiny
Things
( Cowfeather
Press)
