By | 5 December 2019

They come back to me
like acid reflux.

One memory clings to my chest,
another lingers, floats
in my gut, my throat—

I begin to distract myself
with more alkaline thoughts:

my mother listening to Abdel Wahab,
humming along as she puts on her mascara,

or your neroli scent filling a corridor.

I worry these too might become acidic,
this heartburn a habit,
another void-filler.

How to live with my ability to remember?
Not everything I swallow is good for me.

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