Thursday, January 4, 2024


 Briar Patch

Memories hide in liquid spaces between

Axons and dendrites like rabbits

Resting in the tangles of a briar patch 

Sometimes they escape—

Invasive snakes, wildfires in the distance 

And this becomes a frantic forgetting

Some migrate to muscle

Where they can ride along 

Anonymously in arms and thighs 

Not doing a damn thing 

Until one day old suburban dad 

Tweaks a hammy and can’t walk 

Right for a week

Then they start pulling their weight—

Start flashing old scenes

Of lost athleticism and vigor 

Some seek shelter in the liver

Only to be exposed 

By the solitary gin drinker

As recollections of every time

He ever hated himself

And hoped it would go away

By morning 

Some hole up in the hollows of bones

These are the ones you just wanted to be safe 

But then you get old

You fall and break a hip,

Three or four ribs

The marrow spills out

Screaming and moaning about

How much it hurts—

But still worth it


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