Memory

MEMORY

 

Can it be that

memory is useless,

like a torn web

hanging in the wind?

 

Sometimes it billows

out, a full high gauze –

like a canopy.

 

But the air passes

through the rents

and it falls again and flaps

shapeless

like the ghost rag that it is –

 

hanging at the window

of an empty room.

 

 

Ruth Stone.

What Love Comes To: New & Selected Poems (Copper Canyon Press, 2008)

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