Forgotten Labors

Communal dispersal and winds like ashtrays
gas in the air, in our veins
forcing us to spread apart
so that they might break through our lines

There was a moment I forgot who you were
All those early years
in which I yelled “Rise” though the town’s templed crowds
the gates now like bruised puzzles
assuming we have been precariously muzzled
and are not simply biding our time
the perfect memory
is the resemblance of a sutured crime