walking out the door with the dog
the sky ahead
two thick smudges of deepest blue grey clouds
interrupted by a layer of sun kissed gold.
i was thinking about the panel
on the AIDS Memorial Quilt
with the name of someone i had never forgotten
sewn upon a plaid background.
i looked to the left in time
to see the half moon
peeking out from behind
after 3 days of student introductions
to Ryan White, Arthur Ashe and Elizabeth Glaser
and shared memories of my first pandemic
that moon felt like a wink.
causing me to immediately recognize the fact
that they all knew
they weren’t forgotten
because what is remembered lives.
One thought on “Don’t tell me there isn’t magic”