You forget to notice
as your memories become museums.
Encased in dust,
your settling or someone else's,
it covers all the photographs you say you need
and all the papers you won't part with.
It only takes so much before
the fond caress of a frozen, flat, familiar face
becomes the hundredfold tracing of a ropelike scar.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
You forget to notice
as your memories become museums.
Encased in dust,
your settling or someone else's,
it covers all the photographs you say you need
and all the papers you won't part with.
It only takes so much before
the fond caress of a frozen, flat, familiar face
becomes the hundredfold tracing of a ropelike scar.