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Image by Laura Fuhrman

Memory
By Donna Pucciani

 

My earliest memory

is talking baby-talk with my twin

about our yellow stuffed rabbits,

and her “riding” her crib next to mine

for nocturnal meetings that would later

panic our parents, finding us in the same crib

next morning, chattering away.

 

Our conversations planted

memory in our past like an exotic

flower, blooming continually

and forever.

 

When does memory root itself

in the soil of childhood,

taking hold of the years

like an invasive species? And why

does it leave us when it does,

sometimes far too early,

a random casualty of aging?

 

A friend in England

has begun to forget, as if to balance

babyhood’s linguistic adventure,

the invention of memory,

with a gradual senility.

 

To live in the present

is a gift, but unwelcome

when one cannot recall a name,

a face, the clock striking the hour,

or one’s own visage, slowly fading

into the wrinkled petals of time.

Image by Thought Catalog

Donna Pucciani’s poetry has been been published in diverse journals such as International Poetry Review, Spoon River Poetry Review, The Pedestal, Poetry Salzburg, Shichao Poetry, Istanbul Literary Review and Christianity and Literature. Her poetry has been translated into Chinese, Japanese and Italian, and has won awards from the Illinois Arts Council and The National Federation of State Poetry Societies, among others. She has been nominated five times for the Pushcart Prize and currently serves as Vice-President of the Poets’ Club of Chicago. She has authored several poetry collections such as Edges (2016), Ghost Garden (2016) A Light Dusting of Breath (2015), Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox (2013),To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn (2011) among others. 

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