The Persistence of a Memory of Apricot Shampoo

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