Remnants of a Lexicon
by Ruth Behar
Remembered conversations with you
click across my brain.
Letter by letter, the imprint deepens,
darkens, marring
the paleness of my thoughts.
I would wipe away
this uncomely lexicon,
typed in bitterness and uncertainty,
with correction fluid strata,
and hand you a blank page.
But cat-eyed as we are,
we'd geologize, excavating
until we discovered and deciphered
the artifacts concealed underneath.