For an age or more, I took to wandering within that
Labyrinthine, neuronal, architecture,
And one day quite carelessly,
As I discarded stale bread from my pockets,
I mislaid the key of love on some disused pathway
I had not travelled on before.
I moved on, and there it lay out of sight.
Now, only the heart remembers what is missing.
While the chamber doors are locked tight,
The beating insistence, that is the measure of a life
Can still be faintly detected.
Contrary to denial of my unique stronghold,
I have found that even the Human insect is capable
Of growing an exoskeleton,
Utterly shielding that soft internal well,
Fearing that some Pandora may awake.
For even in understanding the idea of love,
She is capable of a smile that says what use?
What need is there for empathy, tenderness.
Forgiveness?
The fragile Spirit left trapped within plate glass,
liquid ice running through.
Soon, it will be my turn
To become the locksmith –wielding-flamethrower.
RE-ENTRY
by Nerina Burke
MEMORY STICK
by Alan Dennis Harris
I carry a memory stick
on a string
around my neck
My stick archives
1000 images
1,000,000 words
My stick helps me
remember who I am
who you are
My stick helps me
remember the first time
my child walked, talked
the last time
my grandpa laughed, cried
If I misplace my stick
I may forget
your name, my own
So archive my picture
on your stick
Mention the last time
you saw me laugh, cry
Carry me with you
until you forget
my name, your own
before your life
is but a frozen archive
on someone else’s
memory stick