Friday, July 16, 2010

Forgetful

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.

3 comments

  1. So true. They will always remain a part of us even though we're not physically remembering them.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "... not through emptying,
    bucket-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.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Loved the slender, 2 line architecture of this poem. You write with finesse.

    ReplyDelete

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