Memory has many chambers
nests of, solace, caves of sleep,
ballrooms bursting bright with dancers,
summer back porch rich with song,
dorm room, apartment kitchen with
box of newborn kittens and window
in the blooming trees, hospital waiting
rooms, emergency rooms, hospital rooms.
I go there to mourn, or to rejoice,
to remember who I was and what
I loved, lost, gained, dreamed, feared.
I cannot live there. Only in this single
simple unfolding instant can I live.