The haze of time is kind,
Warping painful memories,
And dulling the hurt.

But I will still remember,
No matter how
Much time passes,
No matter how long I live.

Even when I am
In my grave, my
Spirit will continue to
Remember the hurt
Of that day, long ago.

The mists of time
May cloud others'
Memories, but not
Mine. I will
Continue to mourn.
I will ne'er forget.

Hornets buzz in my blacked-out brain:
panicked, shrill, harpy-sweet.
Rough hands clamp my shoulders, press into stillness,
the motionless frenzy of deer before dogs
devour their entrails.

Two syllables as a question: my name
in a strange infliction. I pull away.
To him, it’s only another incident
to file downtown. Forms, testimonies
-- They’re my friends,
not a two-inch newspaper column,
an item next to idle gossip and
foreign wars.