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Nor in Memory Held
Wednesday, March 24, 2004Inspired by a line from Dante, it's a poem that's been published twice on the web, once by a friend with her own spectacular poems, once by Flipside magazine, (in the print version as well) an award winning college literary magazine that I, like a lot of people, invested a lot of myself into...and is now, sadly, defunct. It is also one of the few poems of mine that I actually like, that reminds me that I was once someone who wrote poetry that meant something. Nor in memory held by Cindy Lynn Speer It is dark and cold. I sit on the heating vent in my kitchen floor, thinking only of the smoothness of the glass I hold, the hum of the refrigerator... mundane, I know, cut to the chase. You see, nothing major happened today, I didn't have a friend die of AIDS, or wreck my car. But the feeling I have is incomprehensible... It's the feeling you get when your husband's no longer your best friend, or you realized that the girl you thought was your sister in college wasn't ever going to call, or write, or even remember you. Nor in memory held, you sit in the darkness and feel sorry for yourself, happy for the warm air across belly and breasts, for the dusky bitter taste of orange juice, and the frost defracting into jewels on the window. That is why I cry, for beauty not... Nor in memory held. Permalink Cindy scribed this at 6:45 PM 0 comments |