Ever forget your body
in an ocean—blue as the wave
on a breeze, or in the blushing aura
of a sunset at the edges of this world and
night’s promise—a sky so black it shines
through the purple skin of stars,
or in a grove of white oaks breathing
against the drum in your chest, or in a song
not quite as red as the rhythm of fire
or as loud as a dancing flame collapsed
into the smoke of existence, or in a face
whose memory is a silent morning
with sallow eyes—fine as fog’s silk—
and hair tangled in silver.