Apparition as Object of Investigation

"We look at the world once, in childhood.
The rest is memory."
                      ~ Louise Glück


It's true, everything was undiluted,
intense; often, sudden as a stroke  

left by a blade of grass as you passed, 
but which you were only conscious of 

as a bloom of dried blood inside 
your palm after you arrived 

at the house. Now you really want 
to know what happened that night— 

You were not yet three; all you have 
are fragments: the scumbled memories 

of others. Imagine plates on the table, 
from which your parents have eaten; 

and another for a guest who comes 
each Friday to visit your mother. 

But on this night, this friend has poured 
rat poison into her coffee. Did she wait 

until someone left the room before 
pushing her lips over the edge of this 

well and drink, to the dregs? Every 
aspect of the world comes with a haunting. 

In that interlude between spring and summer, 
for instance— when you walk up the steps, 

a drift of faint fragrance descends 
from trees not even in flower.