That which is recalled
is incorporated; snippets
making one whole. 

Two bars of a 
commercial jingle.
Slap-burn on the face.

Wet socks, cold wet socks,
snow-soaked cold wet socks,
badly buckled boots brimful of snow.

Three bars of 
a one hit wonder. Every word
of a different one hit wonder.

How they laughed,
how you cried, how you were
alone most when surrounded.

A tree long ago harvested by 
age that you never climbed. Your fear
of ending the same way.

Scents unidentified to this day
that still bring you to nighttime
among rocks near a lakeshore.

Your name, your given name,
your family name. Your skin
full of disguises. Your mask.

That which is recalled
remains. That which is recalled
is at the least your flavor,

is at the most your savior,
might be your demon: snippets
you cannot name, stuck in your choking throat.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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