Poem: Memory is One Huge Paraphrase

By: Julia Knowlton



Your desire and failing light are the same. If I could
I would make tea leaves out of you; to read.
Their amber odor sweet. My private book.

Your slightest look easily will unclose me, cummings
mused, strolling around Paris, confabulating la bohème.
Would I read something like that? Or would lines

bitter and tingle, just like a fork’s tines?
I know how to arrange you, because memory is one huge paraphrase.



After reading you as tea leaves, I might leave.
Coming to a place unbound by your touch.

(The more you touch me, the less you will know me).
If I stay, barrel shapes of light might begin to spill—



Categories: Poetry

Tagged as: ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.