[7] CORPORIS
[i]
There's a tale about a city that forgets.
It's written in their soil,
carved on their rocks,
and even the papers
yellowing from age have survived
long enough to remember.
And yet, the people simply forget.
[ii]
A humorous coincidence
(do not exclude irony):
a boy forgets to
bring a map and gets lost
only to find the city.
He steps on its soil
(how could he not)
and has written a story
with his footsteps.
[iii]
A note:
he is wearing a brand new
pair of combat boots.
He got it as a belated
birthday gift, but without the
tag pasted on the wrapping,
he didn't know who gave it to him.
But who cares?
He'd forget anyway.
[iv]
A theory
(and possibly an absurd one):
objects can hold more
memory than we do.
If the non-living things
mentioned (see above)
isn't enough,
then here's a proof:
the boy forgets.
[v]
A phrase:
an ignorant, dying
consciousness.
[vi]
A legitimate thought:
maybe we're not supposed to
remember to begin with.
YOU ARE READING
Witherland
ПоэзияAgain: precarious. When blood remains, I see the world tripping over the edge of the sword, red and forgotten. They drop, drop, drop-- balance. And we fall endlessly. [a poetry series by alice © 2017]