Working the Edges
A chemistry set in a yellow wooden box
with a book of experiments
waiting or seeming to wait
in a basement room in a childhood home
to be explored
waiting now as memory
with prominent edges as does a mirror
on a bathroom cabinet door
when opened, shows by its edges
it’s once removed from us
An early fascination, one of many
soon abandoned, wrapped in its moment’s moods
retrieved as aging fragments, a paradox
of now as then, more then than now
we grow tired of paradox
knowing just enough to row the moment
with or against its enigmatic currents
what comes to us matters for having come
it rubs against us, flows over us
showing us body and mind
we otherwise wouldn’t notice or be
the waiting – its or ours?
the latter curiosity and imagination
picking at the edges
of what we glimpsed but missed
of the former there is no text
in its appearing, disappearing
the edges of memory
a deer high-tailing it over our back fence
out of mind, of time
The Dog Star 
2 Responses to “Working the Edges”
“the edges of memorya deer high-tailing it over our back fenceout of mind, of time”
Love it.
That’s a 6 foot fence. Deer leap over it easily. A surprise the first few times.