From Where We Parted (Began Again)

September-spilled memories

hold me to after-hours I hope to forget–
from the brick walls,

the cracked pathways,
and the park by the river;
from the moments lasted,
the mended swing sets,
and the thoughts that linger thereafter;
from the rusted interstate bumpers,
the empty alleys between my fingers,
and the unanswered calls;
from the actions we've mistaken,
the beaming trolley lights,
and the locked stalls;
from the fallen thistles,
the broken arteries,
and the blank pages laying bare;
from the lies told to us,
the shaken pantry-darts,
and clinking of citrus glasses.
September holds me to memories,
vulnerable as cockatoo cages,
that I hope to forget.