Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Cancer of Memory

When I am forty-nine
my cells don't regenerate
fast enough on my face
or my arms or any place
I want my love to see.

It is as though my face
wants to stay the face that
broke a smile the first
time I saw him, so that
he won't fail to see me.

When I am forty-nine
my cells regenerate at
lightning speed in places
deep within that I am
hiding from everyone.

Memories race to replicate
against forgetting, invading
places where they have
no business, causing havoc
no one could ignore.

I pray for amnesia by fifty.

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Feel free to critique the poetry. I employ a sophisticated thick hide technology.