Looking Ahead He Looks Back
Those things we leave behind.
The rooster’s full moon crow
or the blue enameled cast iron pot
bearing the scars of a thousand
meals. Hair on a brush. Harsh
night words and the photos of
a wooden lighthouse from a
discarded life. We choose some,
misplace others. How does a home
curdle within one night’s orbit?
The answer is not your truth. Or mine.
I measure my life in hours lost.
* * *
“Looking Ahead He Looks Back” was first published in Juke Joint, in March 2020.
O at the Edges 
Such a sad poem.
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But now I seem to be reclaiming those lost hours!
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Still thinking of the title, I can’t seem to get my head pointed in the right direction – hence circles?
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I seem to live in circles!
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Much to ponder here – I love “we choose some / misplace others”. It’s a duality, isn’t it, looking ahead will butt up against our pasts, what we see there now and what we want to keep of it.
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Yes! It’s difficult to leave the past behind, and there are those times when we attempt to regain it.
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So true! Hah – how many poems get written perhaps.
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