Memory is a cat.
It rarely does what it is told to do.
We can say, "Be a good Memory
And fetch past days
In unblemished detail
So I can feel the wind as it felt then,
See the morning light as it shone then,"
But Memory is not a dog.
It will not listen.

The Past is a bird
With see-through skin,
Entrails of sky and sun.
Memory pounces.
Feathers fly.
The Past
Escapes being mashed,
But there is some damage.
Nervous and disoriented,
Its song is fractured
And so a joyful time,
The Thruway south of Albany,
Your wife of 24 hours asleep
In the passenger seat,
Appears without low fuel
Or squinting in the sun.
Scott Thomas has a B.A. in Literature from Bard College, a M.S. in Library Science from Columbia University, and a M.A. in English from the University of Scranton and is currently employed as a librarian; specifically, Head of Information Technologies & Technical Services at the Scranton Public Library in Scranton, PA. He lives in Dunmore, PA with his wife Christina and his son Ethan. His poems have appeared in Mankato Poetry Review, The Kentucky Poetry Review, Sulphur River Literary Review, and other journals.

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