The Things I Un-Forget

By Anoushka Sinha

There are some things I can never remember to forget–

The platter of rain on the dirty pavement.

The burning coal in someone's yard.

The splatter of blood in a flooded basement.

The Ruby lipstick stains on the poisoned glass.

The edge of a knife in the chef's kitchen.

The grey of the mold creeping up the walls.

The green of the old books, painted with arsenic.

The erratic whispers from unknown calls.

The sudden lucidity of your amnesiac uncle.

The cluttered leads from a ball of yarn.

The summer mornings, a bit too chilly.

The smell of rot from a lonely barn.

The incomplete deck in a dealer's hand.

The uncomfortable restaurant's social conventions.

The dark circles forming around the eyes of the deranged.

The loss of hunger due to the eating service aforementioned.

The crackle of the corn over the red-hot stove.

The mixture of hair dye and developer in a glass bowl.

The cashmere printed scarf on a disheveled bed.

The shrieks of terror from the other room that one mistakes for the news.

The thoughts of thoughts about thinking less.

The branding of the sin that you are.

The ironing of your mother's crinkled dress.

The echo of the gunshot loud and far.

The finding of a new monument,

The discovery of a drowned corpse.

The unified eyes of absolute judgment,

The unproven opinion of a court horse.

The misfire,

The misfortune,

The missus 

Of one Mister Loon.

The crashes,

The stops,

The rebounds,

The loss.

The cuts,

The wounds,

The stitches,

The bruise.

The heart,

The blood,

The mind

Perturbed?

And oh, the symphony,

The fire,

The epiphany.

The screams,

The pain,

The first murder.

Cain's.

The jolt,

The shiver,

The hysterical

Fever.

And 

Oh,

Oh,

Oh, the irony,

" Oh, the humanity, "

And all our morals dying around here.

By Anoushka Sinha