Forgetful
Full of forgetting,
for getting unfull
not through emptying,
bucket-drudged-up-well
and dump, not that
heaviness at all.
Where does it go.
What is forgotten
is never fully gone,
not a true departure
or evaporation.
Every last thing
you have forgotten
is present, has just
ducked under or
slipped behind,
integrated itself in
you as water sipped
from a glass and
then topped off.
So true. They will always remain a part of us even though we're not physically remembering them.
ReplyDelete"... not through emptying,
ReplyDeletebucket-drudged-up-well
and dump, not that
heaviness at all..."
I enjoy the rhythm of this piece, and the truth- it's all there, somewhere, as a feeling, if not a fact.
Loved the slender, 2 line architecture of this poem. You write with finesse.
ReplyDelete