The end of Memory
Hard and dull, matt surface
Plaster white and bitter
Tasting of no return, no reruns
Just a passing out of reach
Animate to inanimate
Clockwork spring extending

End of memory
Not forgetfulness of a Lotus eater's gape
Nor distance crowded out
With noise and meaning filling
All the gaps
The spaces left for colour and
The lines that merge in a single
Perspective point

Of memory
Gradual fading and graduation
Stutters of old strangeness
Pretences of identity
Nighttime of distant blues
Past sunsets
Or mountains drawn
Childish grey pyramids
Sinking in childish grey sands

Memory
Unspoken and
Matt and
Linear and
Lunar and
Lastly
And

Only when you're old

do you know: it doesn't matter --


if you're postponing.

The children go play,

grandpa is drowsy, today --


No stories today.

Where do I end up?

Didn't I steer well or am I --


being pushed away?

He looks tired, a bit

tarnished already, but sweet --


Right to be coddled.

The old man watches

the bathing girl in the lake --


and the sun goes down.

In the empty hall,

standing next to her suitcase --


mum waits, and she cries.

He's vulnerable,

just look at the craquelure --


over grandpa's eyes.

The many years lived

make me crooked, I subside --


sink into my roots.