overripe fire
spreads across
the deep pink water;
faraway, the oozing clouds
look lavender (though this
is quite impossible)—isn't there something?
You're supposed to remember.
Ghostly music
plays off
somewhere—a fantasy theme
blurred at each note's edges
by the increasing-
ly slow movement
of time—isn't there?
Something you're supposed to remember.
of wheeling silver,
stabs in sharp relief against
the conjured scene
might be willfully mis-
taken to be
a dove—if not
for the distinct lack
of olive leaf—
might even
be taken
to be a raven—if not
for the
mostly just irritating
screeches it delivers:
Isn't there something you're supposed to remember?