Silly Things Poem by Jay Kasturi

What do I remember of my home,
the constancy of seclusion
like the north star
in a crowded sky, a parenthesis
looking for a rapture of memory
amidst so much clutter?
We like to forget silly things,
brush them off the surface
like mildew;
all that stays with us are silly things,
the forgettable remains
of what has been.
Big things fall like the sky,
overflowing every ounce glass
held out.
We hold them out in vain
to remember the fullness never felt
in the days we lived.

(1999)