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The Persistence of a Memory of Apricot Shampoo
by Michael R. Burch

For all that I remembered, I forgot
her name, her face, the reason that we loved...
and yet I hold her close within my thought:
I feel the burnished weight of auburn hair
that fell across her face, the apricot
clean scent of her shampoo, the way she glowed
so palely in the moonlight, angel-wan.

The memory of her gathers like a flood
and bears me to that night, that only night,
when she and I were one, and if I could...
I’d reach to her this time and, smiling, brush
the hair out of her eyes, and hold intact
each feature, each impression. Love is such
a threadbare sort of magic, it is gone
before we recognize it. I would crush

my lips to hers to hold their memory,
if not more tightly, less elusively.

Published by The Raintown Review, The Eclectic Muse, Kritya, Gostinaya (in a Russian translation by Yelena Dubrovin), Boston Poetry Magazine, Freshet, Jewish Letter (Russia), Poetry Life & Times, Sonnetto Poesia, Trinacria, The New Formalist, Pennsylvania Review



Rehearsal Reversal
by Michael R. Burch

The wonder of a first kiss
is:
the next will be better,
if less memorable...

and what’s unforgettable’s
this:
that, somehow, 
although you just met her,

in the exchange of eclectic eyes
love came, an electric surmise,
with the smell of cordite hair 
on a warm wool sweater

more than amply bosomed.
Use
any excess static to light 
the fuse.

Fumble-fingered, her bra strap’s cinch
refuses to budge an inch
in either direction. 
Who’s

ever prepared to be so stymied? 
Smile,
lean back, drag, “relax” awhile
from practice imperfect. I’ll

leave you two jaybirds alone.
Yes, tomorrow she’ll
answer the phone,
show up for your first real date:

late, breathless, and braless! 
(WAIT — 
before you celebrate:
still celibate).



The wildflowers and my love
wilted with the rain
as I idly wondered
where in the past does love remain?
—Ono no Komachi, translation by Michael R. Burch



The moon has risen once again, yet you remain absent.
My heart is a blazing pyre; wherefore?
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, translation by Michael R. Burch



Byron
was not a shy one,
as peacocks run.
—Michael R. Burch



Keywords/Tags: Sonnet, memory, persistence, memories, remember, remembrance, reminiscences, perseverance, love, name, features, face, hair, eyes, lips, crush, desire, longing, lust, impression, recognize, recognition, remember, remembered, forgot, forgotten, angel, wan, night, flood, apricot shampoo, Komachi, Byron
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