Zack Rogow
The Art of Selective Forgetting
Some pungent moments insist on clinging to us—
-
bodily eruptions with no place to hide
-
behavior lightyears from the best
-
memories starring the emergency room staff
-
firefighters with their deep boots and prickly radios
Replaying those thoughts
every day would be
excruciating
The art of living is partly the art of selective forgetting
To savor the citrus scent of a yellow rose
the tiny pillows of lips
the icing and the cupcake
we need to take those jagged memories—
needy as they are—
kiss them lightly on the forehead
pat them on the tush
and send them on their merry way
The Secrets We Take to the Grave
You’d love to tell about the tricks your ex played
to grab more custody or lucre—
but spare your loved ones.
They prefer the Museum of Gorgeous Illusions.
What one sibling did to another
that the other doesn’t know—
pure kryptonite.
The email you just managed to obliterate
before you punched Send.
Don’t forget to empty your Drafts folder!
The vase or dish you expropriated
from a marbled address—justified?
Think how much life has stolen from us.
That little lapse in loyalty—
hard to live with
but it sure got the heart pedaling!
All those heavy stones you can’t reveal—
it takes the greatest strength to pile them
in a lonely inner chamber
and seal every window and door.
