Menu

Poetry

Today                                       just today
is a forgiveness exercise.               I try to live as though
yesterday has no hold on me.                          A roaring in my ears
rises in volume
as I sit quietly in a room                          or back the car out of a lot.
I ask God to help me do this.
I cut open an envelope of sesame seeds.
Flour, an egg, and water.
——-I bake shaobing with salt over flames.
I cannot live in a fireplace always burning. Ash to ash.

———————–I eat shaobing like communion,
with eyes closed, a sacramental union.
After washing my hands, I walk around the corner.
Yesterday is a once-worn wedding dress         at the dry cleaner’s
no one claims.                          After a month, the store owner
seals the dress                                    chiffon and satin and lace
in a keepsake box to display in the window.
One day             not this afternoon             I shall walk past this box
without batting an eye.            Whose wedding was it?

So long ago, I cannot remember.

Was this mine in another life? Will I take a pair
of shears and cut it to shreds as a work of art—
memory’s textile as a living sculpture?

——————————–Sin by sin, we confess
——————————-our flotsam and jetsam. Yesterday’s hurts.
The shearing, that is.
Not the dress.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe now.

Related Poetry

My Nineveh

By

Moira Linehan

Doubt at Easter

By

Jason Gray

image of a person looking over a sunset with a flower from another shot of film over their face. they are turned away.

Argument in Memoriam

By

Clare Rossini

Go Gentle

By

Richard Pierce

Pin It on Pinterest