the atlantis of memory
written by: Falon Willow
after eavan boland
a handful of moments before nothing
becomes more nothing, you are
dizzy with warmth, thimble shots
your anchor to the sunlight zone
of yourself, your hail mary to let
the water touch you.
the edges sanded, you tempt yourself
into submerging your face
but now you have to see
the millions of fish swimming
unnamed inside you.
the cutaneous layer of algae
you grew without skill, carmine
stripes burrowing their way
to the surface. your belly brimming
with unhatched eggs
the life festering while you floated
unaware of the desperate maw
lurking. a whole ecosystem
immolated out of survival.
all of these years, your body,
the memories it’s borne;
the lost city, a relic identified
by debris miles from the coast.
if you take to the floor now
you won’t be able to resurface
without reeling so far into the past
you, too, will be found as rubble.
if you want to map the old sunken streets
you won’t make it back through
the bends. there is no safe return
to your buoy of unknowing.
the only way home now is to remember
that this rusted bedframe, this
pebbled floor wasn’t always a layer
of jellyfish husks. this was home once
& it can be again.
- The Atlantis of Memory - August 13, 2022
