dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: memory

an old wish

the fur, pieces of bone

that see-saw

in what the raccoon left

when the trees get the wind up

an old wish

the deserted dirt-daubers’

crusty pipe-organ home,

hushed and hard

and threatening

an old wish

the abandoned fort

that grew mossy

and wilder than we were

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The shivering hay

in that winter field

made the air crackle

like a rain stick,

like it used to

when my grandpaw

slid the sound storm

between his hands.

I twirled it too

and felt the sparks

through the gray wood,

through the cold hay

in the bright echo

of early winter.


his hand was as cold
as the shining doorknob
throbbing gold and locked
in her memory

keys and cords
kept choking
the copper pipes
in her old home

so barefoot she walked
the stone path
to the doorbell
rusted raspy

corroded happiness
dusted her fingertips
and attic air caked her lips
as she reached

for his hand


My memory of you

Floats in the river in the woods

Behind my house.

It sings louder than the water

Washing it smooth

And warms the leaves’ arthritic hands,

It heals me too.


Memory sliced thin and cubed,
Acquire the taste
Of bitter yellow hue
Peppered with ink-
Scribbled nametags
Clothe the calendar
Inviting bystanders
To a bright,
Important world-
Post-it note paradise,
Stick figures recline
Under a palm tree
Too busy to bother
Welcoming.


Powerful as the new day,

The past lingers

On pungent breath.

Intense as last week’s

Coffee spill,

Memory lapses keep staining,

Polluting the gray office air.

Never a clean break,

Awake, asleep,

Every sunrise with its shadows.