Remembrance
comes shrieking out of me
like the sound of
tires screeching on pavement
~~~
Relief just as great
as seeing I've stopped
a hair's breath from the pole
~~~
Breath waning
like the sound trailing off
round the corner
as an ambulance goes by
until it finally dwindles away
~~~
Glasses fogged and
slipping down my
face in the stream of
tears and snot flying off
as I cough and snivel
~~~
Every sound left in silence
every oppressive smell
setting upon me
enclosed spaces filled with
people just another pressure trap
~~~
I know it will never find them
yet somehow this feels like
recompense, final payment
tens of thousands, only monetarily
~~~
How do you extract
pay from the desiccated
disintegrating corpse
of a memory?
the fate avoided
like the sick on the bus
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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