Memory is stained glass in a hurricane
and shock absorbers during an earthquake.
Shards caught between chasms jiggle and tear
through traumas like the fourth-grade field trip
and your mother’s lobotomy. Glimpses of ice cream socials.
Glass-cocaine tables
where sweat drips through your reflections:
Meeting with a silent image
too blurry to fully comprehend;
culmination of a life and lineage
all erased
when charged with the loss of your head.