Come Quietly Fond Memories
       

Come quietly fond memories.
Do not disturb the measured additions to dinner.

Do not invade the window glass beside the electric stove,
powered by the four dirty crowns of market foraging.

Do not flood this uneasy hour between bike posture
and bedtime, between an empty and full body.

Take me gently to the cans of Texas, where light feet fill
carpeted rooms on the inside of sun-drenchecf lawns.

I am my body as my body has always housed this mind.
A mindful housing for soft pain in circuitry.

I have come to stand above the creamy whirlpools I spoon so
methodically with open ears and heart asunder,

to rock the past nighly into bright bold programs that
do not excuse childhood blunders,

that do not smash the records against frames of forgotten gestures,
that do not shut out limbs as fathers often do.

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Copyright © 2015 Melanie Sevcenko All rights reserved
from We Slept in Body Bags, Just in Case
Finishing Line Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission