I Try to Remember Your Phone Number
I dial it, but some numbers sink
below memory like
stacks of papers and Post-its that shift
into ridges.
Lost digits sprout like weeds on my desk.
Area codes root loose.
Bloomed in salt rain, one rose vines up thin
column,
opens ten petals against grief-gray sky.
9 thoughts on "I Try to Remember Your Phone Number"
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Love ” lost digits sprout . . . ” I’ll be looking for more.
Wonderful poem. I love the connection between the ten petals and the ten digits to a phone number.
This is beautiful and poignant. Love esp. “Lost digits sprout like weeds on my desk. Area codes root loose.” And “grief-gray sky”–wow.
The connection among the living, the inanimate, and memory. Superb.
The last lines are especially powerful, I think.
I love the attitude towards numbers and how it changes.
very nice!
some numbers sink below memory & against grief gray sky.
wow
The images and emotion, exquisite.