One New Memory

Before telephones 
were hidden inside
pocket size computers 

and memories 

became notifications

delivered into the 

lining of my pants,

moments of my past

appeared randomly 

like a leaf blown in

from a tree I could 

never quite determine, 

on a breeze I never

saw coming. 

I was slapped in my face 

only once. My father’s 

hand had an electric 

message for my 

left cheek that 

told me in no 

uncertain terms that 

My mouth was not 

as smart as I thought 

I was. 

I marched this stinging 

feedback upstairs and 

my mirror held onto 

the moment for as 

long as I wanted this

one new memory

to stare back me,

a burning angry flame

only I should be able to

extinguish or reignite.