Submitted by Michael A. Griffith
I am beginning to forget more than I care to remember.
Turn out the light and I may forget what is in the room.
I remember Batman and Robin wearing their underwear
on the outside and The Joker had a mustache.
Did I remember to change my underwear today?
I am wondering if I knew you or if I know you.
No, you: you there.
Faces, not names, come to mind.
And smells and sounds wash off decades of silt,
and some details come to the surface like dead fish.
I am ending. I go on ending. I go on worrying when
I can’t remember my way home.
Did you remember to call me like you said you would,
or am I remembering the last time you said you’d call me
and come take me home?
About the Poet
Michael A. Griffith lives in Hillsborough, NJ and teaches at Raritan Valley
Community College. He began writing poetry to help his mind and spirit stay
healthy as he recovered from a life-changing injury and its resulting disability.
His poems, flash fiction, essays, and articles have appeared in many print and
online publications and anthologies. His chapbook Bloodline will be released in
fall 2018 by The Blue Nib. You can find more of his work here.
Painting: Man in a Bowler Hat – Rene Magritte