I cannot recall it not one
slivered memory slick with remorse

those who have no reason to deceive
tell us it was more than thirty years ago
so why comb that cordoned-off pond now

.          let it lie
.          let it lie

still a nightmare zygote forms

we abhor the stray image that imprints
itself upon us like a just-hatched owlet

flee and it follows

until we who have ceased praying say

.          we deserve this burden
.          we deserve every bad thing
.          that befalls us

***

M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in San Pedro River Review, UCity Review, formercactus, and numerous other journals. Find her on Twitter @writermstone and at writermstone.wordpress.com.