Silt by Mike Griffith

Silt

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 moustache.
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.
As 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?

Michael A. Griffith’s poems and other writings have appeared in many print and online publications. His chapbooks Bloodline (The Blue Nib) and Exposed (Soma Publishing and Hidden Constellation Press) were released in fall 2018. He was nominated for the Pushcart Prize for poetry in October 2018. He lives near Princeton, NJ and teaches at Raritan Valley Community College.