I feel my verse decay, and my cramped numbers fail. –The Spleen, Anne Finch
I feel my verse decay, and my cramped numbers fail.
I hear my mind stutter, and see my body wither.
My memory rewinds, rusted in reverse.
And you over there, standing in the doorway,
asking me what my name is as if I wore ordinary colors.
And I, I remember
the map of your moles on your stomach
lit up like the stars. The taste of
the jagged scar across your abdomen
where they took out your appendix.
Oh, how I almost burst with remembrance.
The way you sweat in your bed, the way you stare
all wide pupils. Heart like a soap bubble.
I feel my heart decay, and my words are cliche.
You, you do not remember
my shadow face.
Scavenger Hunt Writing Prompt 16: contains a line from 18th century poetry.