by Carmen Mason
I would rather anyone –
my old self-absorbed mother sitting
in the dark remembering Charlie Rose,
either of my darling daughters
stopped momentarily from wrestling
with the disappointing universe,
a friend of my youth still my loyal friend,
even my obstetrician neighbor with
caked and tarred nails from slip-
shod boat patching and roof repairs or
Tony-Deli while handing me
the lacy Swiss cheese on toasted rye
or the two year-old who’s
just learned how to talk,
twelve-year-old Mack in his autistic ecstasy;
even Scotty who sells the yard sale
giveaways at his nouveau antique store
or Antoinette in overalls with her two-foot
wooden crucifix and rosary suddenly ceasing
her chanting to inform me Jesus’ll definitely
be here today
or the deaf pony-tailed carpenter whose
hundred keys announce his coming,
Elliot, the sweet starving artist or
Sylvia while she files the brave and weeping
diaries of her COVID clients or
Jimmy, the raging cross-dresser while waiting
for his bus to eleventh-grade Hell-
and yes, my love, after kissing my hammer toe
and letting me dance atop his socked feet
(though it might pain him)-
anyone but YOU
can break the news to me:
YOU HAVE NO MEMORY LEFT……….
xxxxxxYOU ARE OUT OF MEMORY……….
xxxxxxxxxxxxYOU HAVE NO MEMORY LEFT………
I’ve been writing prose and poetry since I was six. Won the Ist prize in Seventeen Magazine’s short story contest at 17 and several poetry prizes through the years. I write because I cannot help myself. I write to empty out the thoughts I cannot hold inside a day or hour more.