Memory Bank

Posted: November 14, 2016 in urban poems

On Friday I gave a one-man poetry show for an hour at the Taunton Literary Festival, having been booked earlier this year. Initially it was a daunting prospect, but it turned out to be a lot of fun before a wonderful audience. Here is one of the poems I read from my collection Fault Line.

The first time I had amnesia
was in Hong Kong.
I was five. I don’t remember.
The second was in Cyprus.
I was ten and found
wandering Limassol’s streets. So

I stand in awe of those who recall
childhood days, opening up a tap
in their hippocampus and pouring out
places, friends’ names, events
even conversations. My memories
are absent. They stand on the other side

of then and now, a canyon between
with no linking bridge. Not even ghosts
teetering on the far side’s edge.
The only triggers are mother’s photo albums,
the past caught in a zoetrope flicker
of black pages and her immaculate white writing.



Reading at Friday’s Taunton Literary Festival event


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