Falling Lessons: Erasure One

He lives in the garden without maps.

Falling Lessons: Erasure One

My father steps into a field of lost
sensation, sunflowers, a yellow star.
 
He lives in the garden without maps.
 
My father dreams through
what he feels and believes is real.
 
He loses his memory, his flesh,
his child with seawater eyes.
 
He forgets the fog.
 
We forgot to speak and snow was falling
on blue mountains, a vein
 
of childhood, blood, and sorrow.
 
I walk into this memory when my thoughts
start falling into a funnel, when I’m failing
 
to love, falling into a freeze-frame
where time fades like the flurry
 
of furious wings. I fall.
 
 
Beth Copeland

Copeland Transcendental Telemarketer

 


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Poem ©2013 Beth Copeland, all rights reserved. Used by permission of the author and publishers. Film ©2015 Motionpoems, Inc., all rights reserved.


 

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