The Memory of Fruit
We did not see the sheep alive. We did not witness the clover or the animals that devoured it. We saw nothing of what we believed.
A summer dress. The memory of fruit.
A past waving like a misplaced flag on a melting glacier.
Somebody else’s dream chains me to this. It’s how I know I’m in here. It doesn’t belong to me.
It’s how I know I’m arrived. That which remains after its cause has disappeared. That which we call love which is not love. And that which is not diminished by not being love.
That which leaves us but is not forgotten. That which sacrifices itself to the meadow.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2013 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily: Burrow Guide.