Memory by Ruth Stone

Memory

Can it be that
memory is useless,
like a torn web
hanging in the wind?

Sometimes it billows
out, a full high gauze –
like a canopy

But the air passes
through the rents
and it falls again and flaps
shapeless
like the ghost rag that it is –

hanging at the window
of an empty room.

– from Ruth Stone’s anthology What love comes to

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~ by translating for peas on October 29, 2009.

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