The Invasive Potential of a Forget-Me-Not
The Invasive Potential of a Forget-Me-Not:
I’ve forgotten how much I know about your barbed grief. Oddly, you are unaware that I know of your loss. Oh, how much can I afford to invest in the moving capture of the spark gap of dawn? Or the theft of a language dead only to our system of questions? I find myself waiting on a tightrope of cogent thoughts while remembering that you are not the container of potential I had once relied upon. Though my consciousness is dappled in Winter rain and wild blueberries, my hope is gloved in the trembling pink peonies mirroring my heart. You do not see me see you smile and it strikes me as a deliciously poignant moment that I only share with the lavender-filled air. Instantaneously I am now too voracious to remember just about anything at all. And so I stroll to the tomb of June’s burning songs, where I will offer the nightmares of uncertainty a little more memory.
©️Winter Dawn Burns
3 thoughts on "The Invasive Potential of a Forget-Me-Not"
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So rich with color and texture!
Thanks for taking us with you to the tomb of June’s burning songs– look forward to what you find there.
Thank you so much for reading my poem and for your thoughtful and encouraging comment!
intriguing: “Or the theft of a language dead only to our system of questions?”
love: “Though my consciousness is dappled in Winter rain and wild blueberries, my hope is gloved in the trembling pink peonies.”