dbb8e6a2f03166ae5c27a2b3bce546d4She told me
it is written
memory controls pain
once forgotten it takes a mountain
to revisit it again
or a certain pair of eyes
that retracing back
remind you of the eyes you loved
when you were youthful, fat on luck
and she did not have what it took to
return the emotion
she told me
it is written
memory controls pain
you can rinse out your glass
dry it in the hot Texan air
smelling of ancho chile and fertilizer
and it will not sprout again
until you are ready to expunge the day
start over with blank slate
she said this
because it was her way
to forget what she needed
rewind the silky tape
press erase
and I did not share this propensity
nor was I able
to shine her out of my hide
she had grown long claws
they stitched inside the cry
we both denied
in our modest pin tuck blouses
and matching bobby socks
turned down once
a slight lemon frill
sensible and cloaked
the passion stucco and quiet
tasted like strawberries
fermented in hot palms
drunk over crushed ice

0 Replies to “Fermented”

  1. Many a visit to the fermenting concoctions of life…that come in so many rainbow of flavors and tastes… some bitter…some sweet….some you steer clear of lest you imbibe too much bringing you your knees retching wondering you didn’t stop three drinks ago…. 🙂 lovely piece Ms C…. thank you for a nice read on the certain analogies to life and relationships…..xx

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *