Forgetting the Past If you unwind the world from 1963 You can live the day for which I am Properly named and numbered. If you pull the heart string hanging from a tree In my backyard, you can watch the leaves Fall, along with the sky and a little dance I used to do. If you know the word that defines me, you will Hear me say it again and again as I spin. If I ride my old bike through a patch of woods That doesn't exist, then you run the risk of Leaning on a memory with varied interpretations. Reflection Evening floats Down a winding river Of familiar minutes, Holding the day Inside its boundaries. Sunset drops from A woman's hand Fingers fall naturally into The reflection.

Bike Path I know a morning That waits by a creek Where ducks fly off With yellow leaves As the wind and my bike Ride through them. Untitled I can't tell you about Annabel. My heart can't stand the pain And I need to go to bed without Thinking of her looking ahead while Death sneaked up behind her. I want to know if it was there the whole time Waiting, or did it happen by for anyone. I can't remember the names of the candy. She spent an hour in the office on a Monday Naming them all, even though they looked the same to me. She told Joey she has a sister and a brother, But her brother has his own mom. Joey said he has his own mom, too. I can't remember her story, either. Annabel told me a story about the Easter candy animals And I wish to God I could remember it. I would tell other people Annabel's Story. But I forgot and now she is gone. Her story was lost in the air I breathe, Which must explain the hurt in my chest. I can't believe she is gone.

Mary Horner's work has appeared in Mid Rivers Review, Byline and Well Versed 2005.

Copyright © 2005. Do not reproduce without permission.

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