MEMORY

The lucid lines of makeshift memory
Falls like a film upon my countenance
And lay the central groundwork for confusion.
I am remembered as I want to be.
It holds but little semblance. little sense.
Despite the records and cold literacy.
It is at best a sham, a fabrication.
Repeating in essence what we think is there.
For substance and the prayer, we all must pay
To warm the cockles of fond memory
and waft us forward into lasting care.
So there but for the grace of God, we say,
Go I (and all my favored retinue).
When memory fails, remembrance will do!

Jay Cohen

POEM # 39 1980 (summer)