Tag Archives: memory

Lost Love Almanac, Entry #1

I don’t have a photograph
of my favorite memory with you—
you sitting at the kitchen table
with your reading glasses on
after you’d just read to me
a passage from your favorite book.
You look so content
with your eyes settled on the page—
and this snapshot is clearer to me
than any photograph of you
looking happy or silly or serious—
and I pretend in that moment
we both forgot that there was
a clock on the wall pointing out
it was time for me to get home.

 

 

 

 

 

DeMaris-
4-2-17

First Encounter

Funny
how the mind
finds as much
excitement
in memory
as it does
in the infinite hope
of daydreams—

thrilling
as it is
to imagine
what’s to come,
what encounters
we have
to look
forward to—

it’s the
memory
of my navel
becoming
a cup
for your pleasure
that makes me
smile and pause—

and I stop
whatever it is
that needs
to be done
so I can slip
beneath you
once again
when I close my eyes.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
3-9-17

Duane Michals, 1969 “The Young Girl’s Dream”

In the Woods

I knew
I had to memorize
the way it felt
for you to help me
untuck your shirt
so I could thread my arms
around your waist—
my open hands
reading the smooth
braille of your skin—
and I found a warmth
so tender I shivered
to think such a heat
extended into parts
of you I’d never find
or feel—
and the sycamores
along the river
were the only trees
to take an interest
in our bittersweet union
because they lived
unapologetically
with their white skin
glowing and exposed
and they couldn’t
understand our layers
or why we thought
we had so much to hide.

 

 

 

 

DeMaris
1-4-17

 

 

 

The Fall

Couldn’t meet you in October like we planned
because even though it’s been years
since an airplane delivered you
within miles of my proximity—
and even though our status is just friends,
we both know how easy it would be
for our afternoon visit in the coffee shop
to end up in the red-orange woods
on that familiar trail we liked to take years ago
before we were married to others
and before we knew what kind of mistakes
we were capable of making—
and I know what kind of regret I would be in for
if your green eyes were to linger on the lips
of my uncertainty — my inextinguishable desire
to touch what must remain hidden under buttons
and buckles and layers of memory and time.

DeMaris Gaunt
10-30-16

Ghost

It’s you again
keeping me awake
keeping me from sleep—
that place I no longer dream of you.
It’s not that I’m annoyed— no.
I’m never bothered by your visits
or the way you distract me
or interrupt my task.
What worries me is the way
you dissolve over time—
the way you leave me
alone more often now.
I have loved to be lost
in the comfort of your memory
but I fear one day
I will forget to remember you.

 

DeMaris Gaunt
9-12-16