February Mississippi


Memories kept popping up

in the night–

they make me old

and knowing time

is passing, has passed,

will pass again.

Sounds of heavy river

water lapping at ice

living on the banks.

I greet so many memories

that they become ordinary

and I no longer

ask their name

before they enter me.

“I’m into you.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You’re my lonely girl.”

No one asks

“How do you need what you need?”

I don’t ask.

Old voice, echo, silence.

Startle, the call of geese

from the opposite bank

brings me to my cold hands

stuffed inside my down jacket.

cheryl strayed quote


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