I forget everything in my sleep

Uncategorized, Visions

I wake up each morning
With no memory.
You show me pictures
Of our wedding.
I can’t recall the ceremony.
Or the priest’s entreaties,
Or my friends’ goodbyes.
But the fathoms in your eyes
And your tactile features
Tell me it’s no lie.

And you recount each morning
How long it’s been.
You give me lists and dates
And things to do.
You take me by the hand
And show me where my sons are playing.
And then I feel my heart is fraying
For in their knowing eyes
And their transparent faces
Are imprints of both yours and mine.

Today I travel out of town
To see my mother.
I recognize the happy riot of her garden,
The colourful disguise of burdened walls.
I ask the woman at the stove
Where is my father?
And from her weary shoulders
And the way she turns her head 
I do not need the answer.
I know that he is dead.

But by the evening’s closing acts
I know the truth of it.
Those half-imagined shadows
That I’ve been trying to dissect
Are spirits born of fact.
There is no living and no dead.
There are only those
That I can still recall.
Tomorrow, when I will wake,
I will remember all.

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