© 2004 Martin Mitchell
am at least what I remember—a fluid and
collection balanced between
has just been acquired and what
just been forever lost, from sunrise
experience that I recall is evidence of my
if only to me; I may be nothing more
what I remember—and what I remember
all that connects me to anything or to
can still be jolted by a scent, a sound, a sight that
penetrates the thickening boundary around
that stirs a connection beneath the accumulated
a connection that has survived the recurring bonfire
feel connections fading, yielding to their own
dissolving into a realm where apparitions
real images blend and blur, and recollections
vibrant drift on the horizon
remember what I am—though there are many more
threads that degenerate, snap, and lose their
than there are new links—a diminishing
of threads that weave meaning from sunrise
angel finally appeared to respond to my need.
patient face with tired eyes. He
greeted me with a wide
and exaggerated, fluid motions as he bowed graciously.
wore a mime-face and refused to speak.
to ask what I really wanted, I asked instead
long a love could last. He spread
his arms, then
wings, in a long, slow shrug. He closed his eyes
smiled, mainly to himself, and I knew.
was answering the question that I did not ask: love can
the times between. But I challenged
that we forget, between the times, we lose track, become
and make the poorest of decisions.
gave me a sad and forlorn half-smile. Then
me to my left, and then to my right. He
and looked puzzled. Then he spoke -
to know why, why I stood alone before him.
All work is copyrighted property of Martin Mitchell.
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© 2004 SubtleTea Productions All Rights Reserved