
The Reappearance of Errant Articles
I’m rewriting a grocery list
on a piece of paper.
I fold it.
Misplace it.
Rewrite it.
Milk
Eggs
Rubbishy veg for soup
Seems there’s a river flowing
through me that washes my
memory away – not forever,
as if like wind, but just a meek
smallish river that cycles back
into rain, and returns.
And I reach into the pocket
of my apron, and there’s
the original list. I assume
that this apron is where
my errant memories go.
As for the apron, I don’t know
where it came from, and I can’t
remember buying it, and I can’t
recall it was a gift, so hey-ho.
Maybe that river gave it to me for
those memories I still have left.
Written for 21 August Miz Quickly’s Wearables A Sīmurgh and an army of birds attacks the spirit of the ocean, an illustration from Anvār-i Suhaylī or Lights of Canopus (ca. 1847), a Persian version of an ancient Indian collection of animal fables called the Panchatantra. Shared with @Miz_Quickly and @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
8 responses to “Miz Quickly’s 21 August”
I got a smile and a hearty dong of resonance out of your poem. Those errant things like to play more and more along the way.
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I tell myself, Stop thinking about it and you’ll remember, which I usually do. 😁
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🙂
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Oh my. I remember playing with my grandmother’s aprons. I might have a few, but I don’t think any have pockets and I generally don’t wear them. 😀
I like you magic apron 😀
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When I cook, an apron is necessary! 😂😂
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Lovely. This ebbs like a river and like memory. And so relatable,! Wonderful.
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Thanks so much, worms. ☺️
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A fun poem, Misk! Never wore an apron. Probably should.
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