Treasure Island

Mark R Slaughter


Memory


Age gnaws at life
Without respite –
Incessantly; insidiously;
Unnerving in its non–rhythmicity:
Irregular pendulums–
Not on clocks–
Dump cold milestones:
Another wrinkle; another grey hair;
Another memory…

I stoked the fire.
A cackling ember broke ranks,
Deluded by escape.
I killed it–
As I do a memory.

It’s the pain you see–
The memory bears the pain:
It hurts my gut, my heart,
My eyes…

I up the volume–
Let the hi-fi sing
A solemn Herbert Howells–
Drowns the memory, see.

I turn to stoke the fire again,
Staying the blankness.



Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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Submitted: Sunday, February 21, 2010
Edited: Tuesday, May 24, 2011

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