The Walls

We wiped down the walls to remove the tobacco shadows

from all the cigarettes you smoked after dinner

when we’d sit around and you’d tell us your stories.

 

We filled in the holes and removed

any impressions of the pictures you’d hung;

the photos of our school days, holidays, birthdays,

the portraits of innocent times,

ignorant of mortality.

 

A coat of paint, a neutral beige,

now muffles all the whispers of the life we had,

back when you’d tuck us in at night

and tell us you loved us.

 

After the sale we’ll divide the proceeds

according to your will

and go on with our own lives,

in our own separate houses.

 

Published in Door=Jar Issue 9, Winter 2019

A Moment Among Megabits of Data

I took a photo of you with my phone,

caught a particular moment,

but the photo fell into the binary abyss,

lost in the digital fray of ordinary days,

of smart phone functionality –

among megabits of data;

emails & txt messages;

facebook updates & twitter tweets;

among MP3 music; &

apps to access my bank accounts.

 

Months later while sitting in a doctor’s waiting room,

not wanting to watch daytime TV

or read old gossip magazines,

I swipe through my phone,

thumbing my way back through time,

and there you are,

in that moment,

and I wish I could remember

what I did

that made you smile

so much.

 

Published in Door=Jar Issue 9, Winter 2019