Another Side

Memory is loss, she said

or something like that

and it went through me like a shot

a string of losses?

But no, there has to be

another side:

a floating poetry of discards

(jettison, we used to say)

Erasures beyond measure,

The second law

of thermodynamics

or even just

a folk tradition of


Capacity to discern

among the clouds of human grief

a piercing light

a chuckle, a cluck

a gloss across time and space