Wednesday, July 6, 2022

You Must Have Existed

There’s nothing left of today,
Not a picture, anecdote,
Keepsake, diary entry—

Not for this day precisely,
And frankly not for most days.
Existence exists itself

Away and further away.
You’re left what the papers,
Radio, and evening news

Recorded, chose to record
Of what there was to be said
About today, but today

There was nothing to be said
On the record about you
And the day you had today,

Child barely into your teens
And not yet out of eighth grade.
It was March. Was it rainy?

It was a Friday. Was it
More than usually boring
At school today? You can strain,

You can sieve your memory,
Write a long memoir to save
Your other, important days,

But it will always be here
In you somewhere, this blank day
You know was but can’t escape.

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