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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