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Original artwork by Lisa Widdess

forgetting something


Edgar Medina
Poetry

There are times

where I remember how

I’ve driven so far out and

yet I’ve left my life at home.

How the reverberation of cars

pierce through my skin like gentle

eyelids sent to their

closing by a failing

effort towards the unimaginable.

Bring myself to step

outside of a fallen vehicle,

with more my mind than

feet, more my soul

than bones; transcending

the statute of the unspoken

definitions of man. I want to pay

for the flowers that might

make her appreciate me

but I only have

my arms and legs; no matter.

I stumble out of the grocery

store with a bouquet of a dozen

roses cuddled closely to my heart

feeling the desperation

creep from out the many

holes misplaced within

my clothing. We need air

to breathe. Motion thrown

outside the car windows

may trip the next pedestrian

doggedly constructing their strides towards

something new. My beautiful other

half opens the door so

that I may stumble in and

there’s only one more dozen

from where that

came from

 

 

 

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