THROB OF MEMORY

He existed today,
but dwelt beyond,
memorizing yellowing photographs
from another lifetime,
drawing the rod of imagination,
sliced deep into his distended passions,
peeling each rotting layer away -
and mesmerized.

The sandpaper touch
of gnarled finger-tip
barnacle crusts
emancipated,
permitted, in whimsical fantasy
this bittersweet glimpse
into hour-glass absences.
Never the witness.
Always the messenger.

Bleeding for that prenatal nostalgia
extended to second-hand experience
shopworn and ruddy
only in thumbnail sketches
and the thrash of memory –
burnt -
on to the golden throb
stepping clumsily
into his present day consciousness.

@Nick Zegarac 2007 (all rights reserved).