– 181 –

I Seem to Have Forgotten My Memory

I must have pushed my memory
through the slit at the Post Office
I still have my handbag here
somewhere
if only I could find it
my letters are gone
and my memory is mislaid or posted
without a return address
or even a stamp
stamping it out of existence

is it afternoon or Tuesday?
did I post it yesterday
or February?

I can remember my thoughts
on my first day of school
I recall the colour
of my mother's hair
the beat of the assembly drum
and the soldiers’ boots off to war
I can still see what I wrote
to the men at the front

have you seen my handbag
do you know where
do you know when
do you know who
I am?

– 182 –

Borderline

Happiness. I am scarcely acquainted
with this.
There is always
the scraping sound of the past.

see how the waves
scrunch, rubbing each other
into gravel
look at this shell
old mussel bone
discarded translucent home
of some subservient creature
I want you to look at this
I want to see you through this shell
clouded again, open to interpretation

this leaf drifted from copper bottomed trees
shining like warnings on the cliffs
wafting into my hand
see, its ribs stand
lonely and separate
joined at such distance
that no touch is possible

when I see such lucent clarity
I want you to see too

the light is fleetingly
on the sandbank where
we walked with Milly,

– 183 –

mimicking the herons’
bobbing dowager walk
see how inert the sand is now
all that is lively, slipping away

the black hole is opening to you
I do not forget that

or your fear
of the shadow at the centre of you