Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

Rilke returns…

They become like flies, these memories
So hard to grasp they annoy.
The color of them fading into a grey
Like black and white starkly melting
Into one another. I want to catch
One, two, a handful and add them
Like juniper to the alcohol I distill
In hope of adding a unique flavor
To the drink I toast this day with.
We are not meant to preserve them,
Those memories – they are meant to pass
Into ether and into the blissful mess
That we endeavor to hold on to like
That child; that child who has no idea
How fast it will all go by once it picks
Up momentum. I want to slow it all
down, to raise my glass and toast
This day as never again it will be.

6 Responses to “Rilke returns…”

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