9
The memory of home is ultimately a construct of the mind*—
I read these lines aloud and trail my hand along the windowsill.
My fingers gather dust, the scent of citrus oil, the fine-
sieved memories of home I have constructed in my mind—
Yellowed paper on which a faded visage floats, still kind:
I make up stories for the ones I’ll never know, distill
a memory of home that’s ultimately a construct of the mind—
I read these lines aloud and trail my hand along the windowsill.
*after Tina Chang
[LAG-other-response date=”08 07 2013″ url=”https://www.vianegativa.us/2013/08/sad-money/” title=”Via Negativa: Sad Money”]