Wrinkled Memory
There are pockets in my mind
that empty themselves
hold coins of memory
tight in their folds
become loose in the laundry
tumble and spill
wrinkle with regret
I have forgotten how to use an iron
How to feed it water
How to know it is hot
without burning my fingers
How to press its face against my pockets
without apologizing
How to free its nose so it can breathe
How to not tell it this means hope,
this is freedom,
you will not have your mouth
pressed to board again
I always forget to unplug it
There are pockets in my mind
and coins in my washing machine
and I have forgotten how to iron.