My memory is obsolete in fashion:
the short blue skirt I saw you in that day
is out of date eons ago. My passion
has cicatrized from when you went away,
but thrifty memory still stores your grey
T-shirt with spots of oil paint, your beret
of modern artist that you used to wear
coquettishly aslant, the bag across
your chest, the thuya needle in your hair,
the band-aid on your knee, the minty gloss
on your sweet cherry lips, the silky moss
under your pliant back, the sassy moth
around my stupid head, the distant laughter,
the flash of bliss, the willow’s leaf embossed
on your left buttock and the most sought after
remembrance of the panties that you lost
in ferns in haste… One day I will exhaust
my recollections but at any cost
I save this one, unclouded and precise,
as my permission to the paradise.
22.04.2019
Urban Sonnet Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet