by Kiri L. K. Salazar
Memory is the golden shore where summer waters lap.
Where sanded children shriek like gulls,
And mothers shade their eyes and search
The ever distant beach for tears or missing faces in the surf.
There the castles build and fall, where triumph tragedy becomes.
And sticky mouths suck greedy gulps of sugar-saturated pops—
Rainbow colors melting down.
See criss-crossed marks burned into skin which will no permanent memory make
To keep from repeating the mistake of measuring the sun by an SPF span.
Boiled-lobster faces whine and belated zinc is applied in futile effort to rewind time.
Gritted bodies, tired, worn but happy with a day’s respite,
Ride the chariot once more toward the sinking orb
Which threatens little from its perch on the lip of the world,
Leaving a flip flop token of remembrance behind.
You’ll find no ribboned concourse marking childhood’s end.
It is fleeting, passing, and no trumpet heralds its demise.
So, measure well those steps you take on burning sands
They will the hourglass wind down and scorch tender flesh
In haste to reach Lethe’s waters.
Written March 2015 – apparently by Kiri L. K. Salazar – who has no memory of penning these words. I’ve been cleaning out old files before deleting an email account. This was one of my last-minute “I should check that attachment” moments. I hope you’ll agree, it was worth saving.