Thursday, March 4, 2010

Let's Go Back to That Day

Let's Go Back to That Day

Since we have been there
before, the past calls out to us.
There is only so much space

in you allotted for storage,
so what you keep is broken
off from your doings,

in chips, in sheets, in slabs.
We never get there, the actual
past, so it drops in on us

with wide-ranging weight.
Trickling along your scalp,
a cool rivulet of regret

or satisfaction. Memory
can slink and it can drift,
imprecise and without boundary,

and memory can crash
down, thunderous, colossal,
the avalanche behind your eyes.


  1. Your poems so often speak to me. This one captures some amorphic essential quality and gives it shape and heft. You are amazing!

  2. this makes me think you're sad... are you sad? Don't be storialist, you are ever so talented and lovely...


  3. Thanks, Kirie and Thea.

    I don't feel sad, but this is definitely reflective and wistful.


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.