Being

I hear there’s a kind of human being
that appears to be, but isn’t
I think they call it a “human doing”
An unnatural twittering thing that lives to act
They say this juggernaut of motion
is addicted to a succession of multi-tasks
so that it doesn’t sleep and eats only to feel alive, with infinite thumbing of keys and characters, a parade of digital doings, on virtual spaces and books with faces
The other day I chanced upon this human doing
Staring at me with eyes (that looming with discontent)
Reached out from darkness in the bathroom mirror
And was forced to see, to listen, to be

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Amnesia

AMNESIA

Why can’t I remember the way you smelled

the way you felt, the things you said

the day that grandpa died

When you held me to you

The only hug I can salvage from my past?

 

Why can’t I remember what you said the first day of kindergarten

When I slapped the teacher’s face

and squirmed out of her arms

Like a bar of wailing, wet soap slipping down the street ?

 

Why don’t I know how you felt those many years I left you longing for your son

In the silent house, that empty room,

With your restless maternal hands

Grasping at the ghosts in my room?

 

Why can’t I remember what you said that final Sunday

When your voice scratched across the miles

A phone line heavy with forgotten words

In a moment that will never be again?

 

Why can’t I remember?