between your empty wallet

Nostalgia like a clean hanky,
By days end is bloodied
And green.

Long gone damp cloth
Left to clam up the space in your pocket
Between your empty wallet
And the key you still think is there.

What will you let me remember?

Maybe the smell of dank
Olive oil,
Or any such provision
Allocated by drunks at
4am for
Use in frantic
Acts of naked lunacy,
Bent double out window,
Across floor,
In front of TV,
Or not at all!
And in
My mind,
Uncovered,
Shallow,
Honest
And Implicated,
I find everyone
I ever met
And ever knew,
Eclipsing and betraying them all,
In this act
To recount,
So to
Forget once more,
All the things
We once
Lay living to.

Nostalgia swells,
Revealing
The cause of
My Love,
Reminding
Me of
The silent Longings
And private battles,
Of
Darling Hope
And the
Shroud of Melancholy,
The leaves long
Ground under foot,
The clouds since
Blown overhead.