LJI Week 2: Fossil
This is my entry for Week 2 of LJ Idol (http://therealljidol.livejournal.com). The topic is "What Really Matters."
My son,age 11, reclines in sleep
Fossil
What remains, in our silted brains
over experiential eons, are calcified
fragments. Pressed in place
by layers of sedimented thought. Maybe
your infant son's deep stare as you
locked eyes through his Plexiglas crib;
throwing yourself at a breakneck jog
down green fallow hills with your brother;
your husband on your first date leaning
over an armchair to kiss across space.
Sometimes, we're gifted with full scenes
caught in amber. Aided by petrified
moments trapped by camera lens.
Your Mom in a white peasant shirt,
horn-rimmed glasses peering down
at an unknowable infant you.
More often, we excavate
only traces. A line from an unknown poem,
recurring like a dream through
conscious thought. A simple slant
of light. All the texture,
the skin and feathers, scraped bare.
My son,age 11, reclines in sleep
Fossil
What remains, in our silted brains
over experiential eons, are calcified
fragments. Pressed in place
by layers of sedimented thought. Maybe
your infant son's deep stare as you
locked eyes through his Plexiglas crib;
throwing yourself at a breakneck jog
down green fallow hills with your brother;
your husband on your first date leaning
over an armchair to kiss across space.
Sometimes, we're gifted with full scenes
caught in amber. Aided by petrified
moments trapped by camera lens.
Your Mom in a white peasant shirt,
horn-rimmed glasses peering down
at an unknowable infant you.
More often, we excavate
only traces. A line from an unknown poem,
recurring like a dream through
conscious thought. A simple slant
of light. All the texture,
the skin and feathers, scraped bare.