Don’t tell me there isn’t magic

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

the clouds.

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

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