Blood-Strangers (poem)
Blood-Strangers Freckles and a button nose. I look in the mirror closely, but the map I trace never resembles her. I shut my eyes tight, as tight as I can, and in the darkness, I inspect the memory. I feel around in the dark. Where is she? I remember she is fat. She doesn't feel fat. I cut myself while making dinner, and it smelled like the time we rolled thirty dollars in pennies on her kitchen table. I reach out in the dark and still can't find her. How long was her hair? Somewhere around the shoulders by now, I think. Always must have been somewhere around the shoulders. A mirror is not a map, and a photograph is not a memory. Nobody remembers who you are anymore. The only name on my birth certificate is mine. A DNA test will never know the secret ingredient in your cookies. A calendar is a diary and a warning. Just like your briefcase, which was already empty when I got it. Nobody remembers who you used to be. I know her eyes are blue, but what kind of blue? I remember they were so vivid. Someone once told me they were more of a dull grey. Her eyes were brown.
♡ Hal