Forgotten

Hi everyone,

Here’s my offering for this month’s Word of the Month.

Forgotten

I remember skinning a cobra,
my finger slipping inside its mouth,
feeling a slight prick and wondering
if I were going to die.

I remember finding a turtle shell
entombed in a weedy field,
whitewashed by age, stripped
of everything edible
by a vulturous army of small things.

I remember stuffing a pigeon
as a taxidermy lesson,
the silly way I stretched its neck
so it looked like its mother
might have been a giraffe.
David's first fish

So many things remembered,
so many things –
the first fish I ever caught;
my mother and I trying to light
coffee grounds in our homemade
corncob pipes;
Billy Pauly punching me in the mouth
when he lost his temper,
me having to apologize
for hitting him back;
Winking at Eloise in sixth grade;
The hunting knife my dad
brought me from a trip –

So why have I forgotten
the name of the restaurant
where one month ago,
or was it two,
I ordered . . .
something . . .
which, I suppose,
I thought was good.

~~(c) by David L. Harrison

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17 comments on “Forgotten

  1. Wonderful memories, David. As a townie, I can relate very little to verses 1 – 5 but I can certainly identify with the final verse. It’s something to do with advancing years I suspect!

    • Hi Bryn. Glad you like this one. Truth be told, I’ve always been awful about remembering restaurants and food, but I’m not denying the advancing years thing!

  2. I deeply desire a time-traveling drone, equipped w/ camera & sound-recording device, that I could dispatch into the past to capture – well, first, the Continental Congress – and then on to catch you & your mother w/ your corncob pipes, emulating Gen. MacArthur w/ the dregs of mom’s morning coffee. Ah if wishes were horses… I’d still be walking as horses are too tall & scary.

    • Good morning, Cheryl! I’m glad to finish second to the Continental Congress, although Mom and I were funnier. She helped me make the pipes, if you can believe it, as a Cub Scout project. Dad was a pipe smoker so 8-year-old junior wanted to see what it was like. Mom wouldn’t let me have tobacco in our pipes but wondered if coffee would work. Dad came home and discovered us giggling uncontrollably over our failed attempts to light coffee grounds.

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