Holding on to memories


They only exist in the
corners of the room now,
like repossessed spider webs,
the tenants gone
unable to make rent;
dusty strands of silk,
fading threads of memory
offering only glimpses here
and there, sneak reviews
of life already past, or recollections
of that bare sight of thigh
above a woman’s stocking
before she lowers her dress.

All things you do
become memories and
attach like mistletoe,
needing a host,
slowly draining you
sprouting white berries
lovely to kiss underneath,
but dangerous to eat.

Or, perhaps they are like
the wispy ends of dreams
as you awaken,
not telling the whole story
but letting you remember
just enough to keep you
from going back to sleep.


Author: compasionatecritiques

Michael Eaton Bio Grew up in Littlefield TX and ran around with Waylon Jennings little brother. In high school lived and worked in a funeral home. First came to Austin in 1960 to attend UT. One year later enlisted in the Army. After serving came back to Austin and managed the Texas Theatre on the Drag. Was there when Whitman went on his killing spree from the Tower. Before completing school, decided to go to San Francisco State University. Moved there, and became a hippie living in a commune until graduation with a Masters in Creative Writing. Then came back to Austin and became partners in a stained glass studio, a business in which my eldest son is still involved in Houston. After two more children arrived, needed to make more money and became a new home salesman. Now retired. Recently have just completed conducting two poetry classes in assisted living centers for the elderly in Austin and Wimberley. I write poetry to stay sane in a sometimes insane world.

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