"Forgetting."
By your side sifting through the ruins
I remember the smile in your voice.
Hours lost listening for your car,
too often letting the mail ruin my day.
You used to say we are not lost, only forgotten.
Forgetting, that is what being lost is.
I no longer see my reflection in reverse.
Under a blizzard of sheets we move with the dexterity
of church collectors.
I forget what I was thinking.