If I Forget Your Name


I might look towards the full moon,


And lean towards the eastern rising sun.


Asking God if he remembers your name too?


He might create a cloud or two in dismay.


It’s not personal, sometimes he forgets, like me


To remember things, I haven’t.


Like the color of your eyes, because


I can’t recollect if they were dark green


But they possibly were a soft blue


That like hers swallow me against the mahogany fibers raining


Down her porcelain face.


But you are not.




Trust me, I don’t mean to offend.


I’m brisk like the wind, destined to


slide across, but never through. and


If little by little you grow wiser


In this autumn spectacle of reddish


Melancholy, one finds abandoned at an old farm


Against that same shade of blue you find


At the cabin lake, which again looks


Like her hair falling in front of her eyes.


You’ll know where this conversation is going.




It’s not like I’m in control here,


It’s only natural that the largest


Impacts remain through time,


and it’s just unlucky that


you had aimed for her crater.


Because now you and I


Have become uncomfortable, like a shrunken wool sweater


Rubbing against a wound I’d


Rather not open again,


And rather than let you go to waste


I am gifting you to goodwill


Because surely there is someone you will fit,


It just isn’t going to be me.


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