All That is Left

(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.