Jun 9
The Effects of Memory
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember ...
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh,
our soft cries, like regret
... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...
now that I have forgotten her face.
Distances
by Michael R. Burch
Moonbeams on water —
the reflected light
of a halcyon star
now drowning in night ...
So your memories are.
Footprints on beaches
now flooding with water;
the small, broken ribcage
of some primitive slaughter ...
So near, yet so far.
Bound
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 14-15
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal the Lantern in 1976. I have made slight changes here and there, but the poem is essentially the same as what I wrote in my early teens.
And a Little Child Shall Lead Them
by Michael R. Burch
1.
"Where's my daughter?"
"Get on your knees, get on your knees!"
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
2.
where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails
when thunder howls
when hailstones scream
when winter scowls
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
where does the butterfly go?
Four-year-old Dae'Anna Reynolds, nicknamed Dae Dae, loves fireworks; we can see her holding a "Family Pack" on the Fourth of July; the accompanying Facebook blurb burbles, "Anything to see her happy." But perhaps Dae Dae won’t appreciate fireworks nearly as much in the future, or "Independence" Day either.
Diamond Lavish Reynolds, Dae Dae’s mother, will remain "preternaturally calm" during the coming encounter with the cops, or at least until the very end.
Philando Divall Castile, cafeteria manager at a Montessori magnet school, was "famous for trading fist bumps with the kids and slipping them extra Graham crackers." Never convicted of a serious crime, he was done in by a broken tail light. Or was it his “wide-set nose” that made him look like a robbery suspect? Or was it racism, or perhaps just blind—and blinding—fear?
Lavish, Dae Dae and Castile went from picnicking in the park early on the evening of the Fourth, in an "all-American idyll" celebrating freedom, to the opposite extreme: being denied the simple freedom to live and pursue happiness. Over a broken tail light and/or a suspiciously broad nose.
Castile can be seen sitting on a park bench. Dae Dae and a friend are "running happily across the grass." Lavish, wearing an American flag top, exclaims, "Happy Fourth, everybody! Put the guns down, let these babies enjoy these fireworks!" Odd to have to put guns down to celebrate a holiday. Only in America, land of the free and the home of the brave?
3.
where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
when the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow
where does the butterfly go?
... Now the cop’s gun is drawn in earnest, four shots ring out, Castile slumps over in his seat, a "gaping bullet hole in his arm," the vivid red blood seeping "across the chest of his white T-shirt." The cop continues to point his pistol into the car. His voice is "panicky."
"****!"
The same curse a Baton Rouge police officer screamed after shooting another black man in a similar incident.
"He was reaching for his wallet and the officer just shot him!"
"Ma'am just keep your hands where they are!"
"I will sir, no worries."
"****!"
"I told him not to reach for it. I told him to get his hand open."
"You told him to get out his ID, sir, and his driver's license."
Little Dae Dae, sitting in the back seat, watches it all unfold. So praiseworthy when confronting the unthinkable, she seeks to console her mother, her voice "tender and reassuring" in marked contrast to the cop’s screams.
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
4.
and where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?
"Oh my God, please don't tell me he's dead! Please don't tell me my boyfriend went like that!"
"Keep your hands where they are, please!"
Suddenly so polite, perhaps sensing some sort of mistake?
"Yes, I will, sir. I'll keep my hands where they are."
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
5.
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
More cops appear on the scene.
"Get the female passenger out!"
"Ma'am exit the car right now, with your hands up. Exit now."
"Keep 'em up, keep 'em up! Face away from me and walk backward! Keep walking!"
"Where's my daughter? You got my daughter?"
"Get on your knees! Get on your knees!"
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
6.
Something inescapable is lost—
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars
immeasurable and void.
Something uncapturable is gone—
gone with the spent leaves and illuminations of autumn,
scattered into a haze with the faint rustle of parched grass
and remembrance.
Something unforgettable is past—
blown from a glimmer into nothingness, or less,
and finality has swept into a corner where it lies
in dust and cobwebs and silence.
"Ma'am, you're just being detained for now, until we get this straightened out, OK!"
By now the cops realize the severity of the situation and Castile's injuries, which will result in his death within twenty minutes of the shooting.
"****! ****! ****! ****! ****!"
"Please don't tell me my boyfriend's gone! He don't deserve this! Please, he's a good man. He works for St. Paul Public Schools. He doesn't have a record of anything. He's never been in jail, anything. He's not a gang member, anything."
Lavish begins praying aloud: "Allow him to be still here with us, with me … Please Lord, wrap your arms around him … Please make sure that he's OK, he's breathing … Just spare him, please. You know we are innocent people, Lord … We are innocent. My four-year-old can tell you about it."
Lavish asks one of the cops if she can retrieve her phone.
"It's right there, on the floor."
"****! It has to be processed."
The cop speaks to Dae Dae, who has started heading back to the car.
"Can you just stand right there, sweetie?"
"No, I want to get my mommy's purse."
"I'll take care of that for you, OK? Can you just stand right there for me?"
The cops continue to treat Lavish as a suspect. She later said that the cops "treated me like a criminal ... like it was my fault."
"Can you just search her?"
Mother addresses daughter tenderly: "Come here, Dae Dae."
"Mommy…"
"Don't be scared."
Lavish informs Facebook Live: "My daughter just witnessed this."
She tips the phone's camera to the side window of the squad car: "That's the police officer over there that did it. I can't really do **** because they got me handcuffed."
"It's OK, mommy."
"I can't believe they just did this!"
Lavish cries out, sounding "trapped, grief-torn." Dae Dae speaks again, "mighty with love," a child whose "quiet magnificence" commands us to also rise to the occasion.
"It's okay, I'm right here with you."
7.
And a little child shall lead them.
Amen
NOTE: The quoted parts of this poem were taken from a blow-by-blow account of the incident, "The Bravest Little Girl in the World," written by Michael Daly and published by The Daily Beast.
Keywords/Tags: effects, memory, memories, remember, regret, moonlight, erase
by Michael R. Burch
A black ringlet curls to lie
at the nape of her neck,
glistening with sweat
in the evaporate moonlight ...
This is what I remember
now that I cannot forget.
And tonight,
if I have forgotten her name,
I remember ...
rigid wire and white lace
half-impressed in her flesh,
our soft cries, like regret
... the enameled white clips
of her bra strap
still inscribe dimpled marks
that my kisses erase ...
now that I have forgotten her face.
Distances
by Michael R. Burch
Moonbeams on water —
the reflected light
of a halcyon star
now drowning in night ...
So your memories are.
Footprints on beaches
now flooding with water;
the small, broken ribcage
of some primitive slaughter ...
So near, yet so far.
Bound
by Michael R. Burch, circa age 14-15
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of the streetlamp casts strange shadows to the ground,
I have lost what I once found
in your arms.
Now it is winter—the coldest night.
And as the light of distant Venus fails to penetrate dark panes,
I have remade all my chains
and am bound.
Published as “Why Did I Go?” in my high school journal the Lantern in 1976. I have made slight changes here and there, but the poem is essentially the same as what I wrote in my early teens.
And a Little Child Shall Lead Them
by Michael R. Burch
1.
"Where's my daughter?"
"Get on your knees, get on your knees!"
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
2.
where does the butterfly go
when lightning rails
when thunder howls
when hailstones scream
when winter scowls
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
where does the butterfly go?
Four-year-old Dae'Anna Reynolds, nicknamed Dae Dae, loves fireworks; we can see her holding a "Family Pack" on the Fourth of July; the accompanying Facebook blurb burbles, "Anything to see her happy." But perhaps Dae Dae won’t appreciate fireworks nearly as much in the future, or "Independence" Day either.
Diamond Lavish Reynolds, Dae Dae’s mother, will remain "preternaturally calm" during the coming encounter with the cops, or at least until the very end.
Philando Divall Castile, cafeteria manager at a Montessori magnet school, was "famous for trading fist bumps with the kids and slipping them extra Graham crackers." Never convicted of a serious crime, he was done in by a broken tail light. Or was it his “wide-set nose” that made him look like a robbery suspect? Or was it racism, or perhaps just blind—and blinding—fear?
Lavish, Dae Dae and Castile went from picnicking in the park early on the evening of the Fourth, in an "all-American idyll" celebrating freedom, to the opposite extreme: being denied the simple freedom to live and pursue happiness. Over a broken tail light and/or a suspiciously broad nose.
Castile can be seen sitting on a park bench. Dae Dae and a friend are "running happily across the grass." Lavish, wearing an American flag top, exclaims, "Happy Fourth, everybody! Put the guns down, let these babies enjoy these fireworks!" Odd to have to put guns down to celebrate a holiday. Only in America, land of the free and the home of the brave?
3.
where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
when the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow
where does the butterfly go?
... Now the cop’s gun is drawn in earnest, four shots ring out, Castile slumps over in his seat, a "gaping bullet hole in his arm," the vivid red blood seeping "across the chest of his white T-shirt." The cop continues to point his pistol into the car. His voice is "panicky."
"****!"
The same curse a Baton Rouge police officer screamed after shooting another black man in a similar incident.
"He was reaching for his wallet and the officer just shot him!"
"Ma'am just keep your hands where they are!"
"I will sir, no worries."
"****!"
"I told him not to reach for it. I told him to get his hand open."
"You told him to get out his ID, sir, and his driver's license."
Little Dae Dae, sitting in the back seat, watches it all unfold. So praiseworthy when confronting the unthinkable, she seeks to console her mother, her voice "tender and reassuring" in marked contrast to the cop’s screams.
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
4.
and where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?
"Oh my God, please don't tell me he's dead! Please don't tell me my boyfriend went like that!"
"Keep your hands where they are, please!"
Suddenly so polite, perhaps sensing some sort of mistake?
"Yes, I will, sir. I'll keep my hands where they are."
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
5.
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
More cops appear on the scene.
"Get the female passenger out!"
"Ma'am exit the car right now, with your hands up. Exit now."
"Keep 'em up, keep 'em up! Face away from me and walk backward! Keep walking!"
"Where's my daughter? You got my daughter?"
"Get on your knees! Get on your knees!"
"It's okay, Mommy, I'm right here with you."
6.
Something inescapable is lost—
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars
immeasurable and void.
Something uncapturable is gone—
gone with the spent leaves and illuminations of autumn,
scattered into a haze with the faint rustle of parched grass
and remembrance.
Something unforgettable is past—
blown from a glimmer into nothingness, or less,
and finality has swept into a corner where it lies
in dust and cobwebs and silence.
"Ma'am, you're just being detained for now, until we get this straightened out, OK!"
By now the cops realize the severity of the situation and Castile's injuries, which will result in his death within twenty minutes of the shooting.
"****! ****! ****! ****! ****!"
"Please don't tell me my boyfriend's gone! He don't deserve this! Please, he's a good man. He works for St. Paul Public Schools. He doesn't have a record of anything. He's never been in jail, anything. He's not a gang member, anything."
Lavish begins praying aloud: "Allow him to be still here with us, with me … Please Lord, wrap your arms around him … Please make sure that he's OK, he's breathing … Just spare him, please. You know we are innocent people, Lord … We are innocent. My four-year-old can tell you about it."
Lavish asks one of the cops if she can retrieve her phone.
"It's right there, on the floor."
"****! It has to be processed."
The cop speaks to Dae Dae, who has started heading back to the car.
"Can you just stand right there, sweetie?"
"No, I want to get my mommy's purse."
"I'll take care of that for you, OK? Can you just stand right there for me?"
The cops continue to treat Lavish as a suspect. She later said that the cops "treated me like a criminal ... like it was my fault."
"Can you just search her?"
Mother addresses daughter tenderly: "Come here, Dae Dae."
"Mommy…"
"Don't be scared."
Lavish informs Facebook Live: "My daughter just witnessed this."
She tips the phone's camera to the side window of the squad car: "That's the police officer over there that did it. I can't really do **** because they got me handcuffed."
"It's OK, mommy."
"I can't believe they just did this!"
Lavish cries out, sounding "trapped, grief-torn." Dae Dae speaks again, "mighty with love," a child whose "quiet magnificence" commands us to also rise to the occasion.
"It's okay, I'm right here with you."
7.
And a little child shall lead them.
Amen
NOTE: The quoted parts of this poem were taken from a blow-by-blow account of the incident, "The Bravest Little Girl in the World," written by Michael Daly and published by The Daily Beast.
Keywords/Tags: effects, memory, memories, remember, regret, moonlight, erase
