The Web Poetry Corner - Thomas Michael McDade - Past
Past
by
Thomas Michael McDade
I want to know everything
from minute one
but my recall
is a short, sneaky fuse
in need of repair.
So I run to the past
like a centaur
returning
to a burning myth to share
stalls with memory mares
their flaming manes crackling
hints of my history,
sparkling lies for all
I care.
So skillfully grafted
other trips,
I’m a fireproof raider
galloping
into the whitest heat
of remembering.
Then reaching
like a trick rider
in a wild west show,
I grab a ball of asbestos
yarn from the devil’s cat
and try to set a brand
new trail
that’s just another fuse
flaring as fast
as a beadless rosary.