(from the SLCC prompt: write a poem about forgetting something important.)
The neighborhoods I grew
up in
are gone
and the towns
they composed are
changed—
bombed or bulldozed,
reclaimed by jungle vines
or worn out and down by years
of repeated renters and college kids
coming and going and coming and
going.
All of my homes
are gone
from the neighborhoods, the past,
the stories of my mother and father and
siblings would tell of moving in and out of house
after house always coming and going, coming and
going.
All that is left
now are the stills—
black and white frozen faces and
stances from a past—
silhouettes of stories and moments
and my face stares out at me but my memories are
gone.