A Hazy Account of Days Gone By

This poem was published in Entropy Magazine para mi mamita linda.. Today is her birthday so I share this with you in hopes that it reaches her out in the ether…

A Hazy Account of Days Gone By

I was doing the math the other day
and it dawned on me

I’ve gone half my life without you
millions of seconds

half as many minutes
too many hours

numbers falling from a grid
down a chute, way out into the ether

most days are without incident
like clockwork

and the thing about clocks
with their mechanical hands and relentless tick tock

they stop for no one or nothing
so I keep moving

without hesitation or second guessing
for to linger in thought would mean getting lost in the visceral

and I ain’t got time for that
so I keep moving

but every now and then
before the light of day

and the sound of running water
and small footsteps takes hold

I allow myself to stick around
where memories of you roam free in my foggy head

all fragmented and messy
disjointed
bits and pieces of a hazy childhood coming into view

you see, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen your face
and I’m having trouble remembering you

backseat leather
baby blue mats

seatbelt not required
I don’t drive on freeways

your short pixie cut
the color of Thrifty’s ice cream

with lips to match
reminiscent of LA sunsets

and courtesy of Maybelline
your eyes in plain sight

one eye on the road
one eye on us

it’s only when I shut out the noise
can I see you, ma

Damned those spots!
you counted and tried getting rid of

I notice now on my aging hands
and I, unlike you, don’t want to see them go

if it means letting you go
five spots on my left, a dozen on my right

it’s only when I lay my head heavy
can I feel you, ma

squeezing. pinching. twisting
my soft and fleshy ears between your seemingly infinite fingers

funny how my own, covered in creases
dusted in specks

find their way to my children
without hesitation or second guessing

I keep photos of you
a dusty stack of paper

in no particular order

all fragmented, messy
disjointed
bits and pieces of a life no longer beating
yet in these hands
there is still life

http://enclave.entropymag.org/finalpoem-from-gaby-herrera-stern/