By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

I remember your nose
where every scent is a curiosity
traced in the gardens where
passion made them flower
or foraged from forests
cooked in the kitchen
by gourmet fairies

I remember your eyes
where dreams coasted with tears
drying with a kiss from the wind
torched by the merciless sun
turning into salt

I remember your ears
always eager to hear whispers
of tales from the deepest distances
from chance passengers
favored by luck
or those crushed from the voyage

I remember your throat
from where all your songs
glide through, a flawless river of nectar
and your shoulders, soft and tender,
a pillow, where, tired and sleepy,
I surrender, my dreams

what I can’t remember
is to put them together, in a face
now covered with a thin mist
getting thicker by the day
with layers of newer things
artificial intelligence
and fossilizing memory

indeed, it is spring
new growth is sprouting
from leafless branches of trees
this season, I see your face, receding
blurring, in the mist
in the shadows of the mist

To you: To what we can remember, while you are still alive, while I’m still alive. Because no matter how defiantly we hope and deny, the fact is, we cannot remember forever.

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