On odd nights my brain
tips out its contents, tosses them,
tries to cram them back in
but when it's been too long
the memories drip like golden water
through the cracks,
mixed and muddled,
blurring into one another and
flickering behind my eyes
like dreams creeping into
wakefulness. Tonight the aroma
of burnt wood in night air
(just cold enough to
widen my eyes in gladness, not so
frigid as to forbid)
meant dark Maine forests
in summer, meant mountain sunrises
in Taiwan's autumn, meant
the waning of winter now
and the next year and the next.
Tonight the smoke wove
itself into my clothes and
mind, bringing the memory of one
beautiful day together with
all the others I have known.
Tonight I'll lie in bed and breathe in
the lingering, hazy scent
and drink my muddled
golden water like wine.
tips out its contents, tosses them,
tries to cram them back in
but when it's been too long
the memories drip like golden water
through the cracks,
mixed and muddled,
blurring into one another and
flickering behind my eyes
like dreams creeping into
wakefulness. Tonight the aroma
of burnt wood in night air
(just cold enough to
widen my eyes in gladness, not so
frigid as to forbid)
meant dark Maine forests
in summer, meant mountain sunrises
in Taiwan's autumn, meant
the waning of winter now
and the next year and the next.
Tonight the smoke wove
itself into my clothes and
mind, bringing the memory of one
beautiful day together with
all the others I have known.
Tonight I'll lie in bed and breathe in
the lingering, hazy scent
and drink my muddled
golden water like wine.