Monday, January 11, 2016

Sense Memory

Write one-handed in bed like this always.
Remember what it's like to close the door to your own room.
Unpredictable grief.
Remember other winters buried in bed;
I always only remember other summers, a disservice.

How old was Falstaff and how old's that in my years now;
does it say, do I betray my ignorance?
If I wasn't so sick I'd drink a sack of sherry.
How old will old be when I am the age that is?

Remember to tell me if you're ill,
you promised me today but we have so far to go.

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