Memory Tonic
He takes a
tea-spoonful
of reddish tonic.
Dried stubbles
sprout within
his old skull.
Memories froth in the vast past…
His mom applies bitter neem paste
on her nipples like the inaugural
ceremony of denial on the earth.
Silhouette
of a secret
sorrow grows
against a wall.
Tear oozes out
of the past.
Memories
froth… A baby
sucking within the
frozen arms, fumes of
mystery from smoldering
frankincense near grandma’s
stiff body, remnants of a rape,
infiltrating fingers of a homosexual,
distilled pain from privation…
He loses
his sleep.
Even the
sweetest
memory
lands on
loss. Peace
is in the
oblivion.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
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