ARC OF MEMORY
Bright sweeps of sudden light from trucks on the road; arcs of memory on a more interior windshield. From “Reversed Alphabet of Rain” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 08-23-12
All he really must do now is mine those quarries
of memories, like bauxite, lining the silent boulders
inside burrowing caverns. They still glisten, these
cracked stones. Briefly. But he was an innocent lad
from the lowlands then, he counted them like marbles.
He saw those stones again on a slow cruise from the city
where on deck he could see the sea and sky conspire
to eat the sun, a gem still there. Scouring those lime
mountains in Les Baux, he shook his trembling finger
at the source of metals that shaped the monster planes
that burned his playgrounds with napalm bombs.
When he was young.
—Albert B. Casuga