fireflies

she hated the forgetting
wisps of memory sliding through her fingers
scattering, dissipating, flying
she watched them
sad
mute, dumb, paralyzed
powerless

if she asked,
would he (could he) bring them back to her?

maybe next thursday
she’ll find a jar
lid shut tight

not like the fireflies they caught
last september
his birthday
and let escape by morning

she wouldn’t let go
if he left her a jar
maybe next thursday

2006