Fickle Little Lullabies & Short Term Memory Loss
I yearn to remember the fleeting,
Every warm idea
Disappearing, the way every distant light in the winter seems like a fireplace, yellow warmth in the arctic night but eventually,
Dissipating,
every brilliant thought that melted me
for a moment, lost forever and who knows what
I’ve forgotten that I’ve forgotten:
I can’t sing you a single lullaby,
all that my mother serenaded me with
every night. My mind is diaspora.
Maybe,
it’s better
this way I can wonder.
Benjamin Guzovsky is a high school senior from Massachusetts. He enjoys competitive
swimming, watching the sunrise, and The Great British Baking Show. His work is previously unpublished.