Poem 77

A robot heard me singing and asked if I was okay.

Emerald green glass was smooth and soothing to the nerves

but detrimental to the creative process.

Imagine all the times you will suffer failures of imagination.

The loss of advantage felt like coals aflame in my stomach.

And I wore a burnished crown of consternation on my brow.

And I crushed the glass into shards and

swallowed it for something to do.

Do you recall watching the soldiers march by?

We watched from the treetops which

we fell from when the first shots were fired.

But we survived only to pretend we saw nothing.

Never say that you remember me fondly.

Say that you remember blood matting my hair.

Tell me you remember scorch marks fraying my dress.

Remember a sword in my hand; eyes burning with righteous rage.

Archeologists uncovered things no one wanted recollected:

trash on the floor, pots cracked and discarded,

granary lists forgotten as soon as they were written.

And holy men said, “See how sacred, fall to your knees.”

Do you recall the childish pact?

Blood from my hand and blood from your hand

and a vow that our words should not be forgotten.

Therefore, every time you lose a battle, I will be there.

You said I wasted my time collecting remembrances.

I said you wasted your time making time.

And imagination withered as memory grew.

And the soldiers watched us fall and pretended they saw nothing.